


Sacred and Most Favored

by KhlorisDancer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, SaMF, Sacred and Most Favored, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, all the magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KhlorisDancer/pseuds/KhlorisDancer
Summary: Hermione Granger is bound and determined to change the wizarding world, no matter what it takes. Magic is bound and determined to throw her head first into the House of Black. No matter, Hermione's always been good at coming out on top, and really, is it so bad to be surrounded by people with near limitless power, wealth, and prestige?
Relationships: Mr Granger/Mrs Granger (Harry Potter), Orion Black/Walburga Black, Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 139
Kudos: 281





	1. Prologue

Magic exists in every world, perhaps more obvious in some than others, _but_ it’s always there.

In every world that she exists, which are many and varied, Hermione Jean Granger is one of Magic’s most beloved children. A girl with a thousand faces and ten thousand destinies, she has been-will be- _is_ one of the greatest magicians of all time.

In one world Hermione will be known as the Brightest Witch of Her Age, she will help the Chosen One _-her blood brother-_ save the world, and will end up married to the love of her life, with two beautiful children, and a fulfilling career righting the wrongs of magical society as Britain's Minister of Magic. In that world her magical talents and abilities are never truly nurtured, her potential never reached. She will never know that she could have been more, _had more._

_That_ is another world, in _this_ world she is still born Hermione Jean Granger, for there is power in a name and hers _is_ a name of power. Born this time instead to William and Helen Granger, a set of cousin’s Wendell and Monica Granger never knew they had, on September 19, 1959. For someone like Hermione, who with a few hours of time can save a man from an unjust execution, 20 years may be just enough time to reshape the wizarding world.

It helps that Magic is on her side.

* * *

William and Helen Granger welcome their daughter into the world on September 19, 1959; she is a fuzzy headed baby, with a powerful set of lungs, and normal baby-blue eyes. They take her home to their little abode, an apartment with two bedrooms, a bath, and living room/kitchenette in a tenant house above some shops at the edge of London proper. It’s not much but it’s home, and honestly they can’t afford a better place.

Neither William nor Helen make a great deal of money, and while Helen’s parents are happy to help where they can they aren’t much better off themselves, are too old to really work, and live in a old one-bedroom cottage near Edinburgh. William’s parents, who are quite well-off as his father is lawyer like William himself, disowned and disinherited their son for his refusal to marry a work associate’s daughter. They have refused to interact with him since then, along with the rest of his family. They are also the root of the Granger’s problems as they have gone so far as to have William blacklisted from any and all firms in London to teach their son a 'lesson', and they Grangers lack of money ensures there is no chance of relocating to 'greener pastures'.

So instead William and Helen make do, working two jobs apiece and picking up the occasional odd job to bring in a little extra money in desperate hopes that someday thing will be better. It isn’t much, but they get by.

Years pass by and Hermione grows from a baby into an inquisitive toddler, her baby-blue eyes transitioning into a tawny-gold, her dark hair growing curlier and poofier by the day, a chocolate cloud forming about her shoulders.

She is babysat by the family's tenant neighbor, an elderly woman called Maggy (Margaret in truth but that is a little hard for a toddler to say), while her parents are at work. Hermione spends her days playing with the other tenant children and listening to Maggy tell stories of her Old Country as she knits (Nobody is quite sure what 'Old Country' Maggy is actually from, but the stories are good, if a little too fantastic to be real and a little too mundane to be fantasy). When one or both of her parents have a rare day off, and it is nice outside, they go to a little park down the road, where they spend hours catching critters and playing on the little slide and swing set the park has to offer. If, however, the weather is bad, then the Granger’s will spend the day in the little second-hand bookshop that resides under their apartment (alongside a bakery and cleaners), reading stories to their daughter and teaching her what they can.

These are some of the happiest times in young Hermione’s life.

The first few years of Hermione’s life are by all rights normal, she is loved and provided for by her parents -even if it is hard to make ends meet sometimes. Her early accidental magic is never anything more than making something she wants come to her or removing a mess before she can get in trouble. All in all a regular, boring childhood. Her troubles don’t start until she is nearly five years old...

They begin with a scared little boy lost in the park.


	2. First Encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter will be broken up so i can get a better flow going so you'll get the first few chapters at once.
> 
> do not own.

_A warm sunny day, Late Summer 1963_

"Sirius, Where are you! Son, this isn't funny!"

Orion Black is not the type of man to be easily frazzled, he is a rather powerful Dark Wizard, the Head of the _Noble and Most Ancient_ House of Black, and a 12-time Dueling Champion with a Mastery in Marital Magic. But his firstborn son is missing, his House's heir, _his Bright Star_ , somewhere _here, in the thrice-damned backwaters of Knockturn Alley_ , and the stupid injury that had ended his dueling career, and nearly taken off his leg, is slowing him down even with the assistance of his damned cane.

"Sweet Nimue, _fucking help me_ ", Orion half-prayed, half-cursed under his breath, voice hoarse. If anything happened to his son he'd never forgive himself, and he was sure Walburga would use his body as kindling to burn the entire Alley to the ground -preferably with him still alive through it all.

Getting the Aurors would take ages and a mountain of paperwork, even with a child missing. Lucretia's nephews had been reported missing for over six hours before the ministry had even attempted to go looking for them, luckily the little brats had only found their way into the back of a sweets shop and eaten themselves into a sweets sleep _._ The worst that had come about was a great deal of stickiness and two upset stomachs, and a good talking to wonce their elder sister had gotten to them.

He didn't have that option or the time in a place like Knockturn Alley.

"Sirius, your mother will be worried sick if we don't get home soon!", Orion attempted hoping his son would come scampering up the cobblestone path any moment, an abashed look on his face. But no matter how many times he called out Orion found himself no closer to finding his son.

Determined to find his son he payed little attention to the more mundane goings on of the Alley, paying no mind to the sound of a nearby shop door opening and closing again. After all, the wards on all the buildings in the alley ensured wandering children couldn't get in. They were more oft used to keep young scoundrels from picking pockets or filching merchandise, but they also meant Sirius couldn't have gone in any of the shops without an escort, a _familial_ escort. The Black Family's Heir ring Sirius always wore ensured nobody _escorted_ his son anywhere unwanted, the curses layered into the Heir's ring were devastating to anyone who meant ill-will to its possessor.

"Lord Black, what brings you this far down the Alley in such a hurry?"

Orion turned to face the familiar voice of Herman Burke, his cheeky cousin of slightly lower standing, whose personality grated on his nerves on the best of days and whom appeared to be exiting a small nondescript store. It bore no outward markings or signage to announce exactly what type of business was done there. Few stores this far down the Alley had any, you either knew what you were looking for or you kept your business to yourself.

Lord Black sized up his cousin, wondering fleetingly if he meant any harm, before determining that he was as close to any help as Orion was going to get down this way. Plus, their families were on good terms and Herman was half a Black himself, so it was doubtful the man would cross him. He was too smart for that... _now._

"Sirius, my son, has wandered off and I can't find him anywhere. Have you seen him come through here?" Orion questioned the man, though he held no true hope that his cousin had seen his errant son, though he might have some other knowledge that may help Orion in his hunt. The only reason Orion had known to look down this part of the alley was because a passing hag had been willing to trade the information in return for his studded cufflinks. Which she had wanted for earrings, of all things.

The boy had somehow slipped out of Ointments and Unguents, a store that sold salves and external potions on the upper side of Knockturn, when Orion had gone farther into the store to look at some of the bathing potions his wife favored, one of Walburga's few simple pleasures. Said store also happened to be the only place in London that Orion could get the Dark Relief Salve, the only legal and approved potion that could be used for the debilitating curse scar on his leg. It could not completely cover the pain the scar caused, but it did make Orion's leg functional, which was as good as he was going to get. The healers had been adamant about the fact that they had only just been able to save his leg and there was no amount of healing that could undo the damage done. There were other potions of course, that could take away all the pain, but they all had adverse side-effects and/or caused addiction, neither of which Orion was willing to risk.

"Apologies Cousin, I can't say I have." Burke started to reply before seeming to pause and think, "Though, you might try that gossip Old Lawny down the way, she runs the pub, the one with the sign for palm readings."

"You want me to ask some fraud Seer where my son is?" Orion asked incredulously. He was barely restraining his urge to throttle the man. His cousin was mad if he thought that a palm reading would get him any closer to his son. Old Lawney was a barmy old bat, everyone knew that entire family rode on the coattails of Lady Cassandra, an old witch who was a True Seer, but had disappeared many years ago, likely dead at this point.

Burke raised his hands and shook his head half in surrender and half to ward Orion off, "It's true she's not much of a Seer, but the witch seems to know everything that happens down this neck of the alley. Throw her a bit of gold and you'll find your son in no time I suspect."

Burke eyed his cousin warily.

Orion imagined his appearance was less than inviting, he'd been looking for his son for 15 minutes already, he was perspiring, as the day was uncharacteristically sunny and warm, and he'd kicked up the filth of the Alley in his haste; at best he looked disheveled, though he'd bet his monthly stipend he was leaning more towards half-mad. Blessedly, perhaps due to some long dormant instinct or perhaps because Orion's magic was starting to spark along his cane, Burke seemed to realize that his cousin was not in the mood to deal with him. So with some lame excuses and assurances that if Sirius was not found soon he would join the search party, Herman gave a hasty, "Good day cousin" and fled up the alley and away from the Black lord.

Turning and heading as fast as he could down the alley again, Orion quickly found himself at what appeared to be Old Lawney's pub, a battered up building with a palm reading sign, which had an inner eye that seemed to follow him eerily as he neared the door. Pushing down the leery feeling of being watched he entered the small heavily-scented nuilding.

"Welcome, my child. I have been expecting you."

The Lord Black could easily say he was less than impressed with the witch that stood behind the counter of the pub. She appeared to be middle-aged with a low whisper-hoarse voice garbed in poorly matched _fake_ 'Gypsy' dress. No true Romani/Roma Wix would dress so ridiculously, Orion knew, having dueled several during competitions on the continent. They had favored fire and song-spells and often cast in pigeon tongues that were damn near impossible to understand. Yes, Orion remembered those little pyromancer pyromaniacs well. And while the pub reeked as though something wretched was burning, it was more likely the mix of the incense and the smoking pipe the witch had laid on the counter, which smelled a little too _sweet_ to be just tobacco or herb, rather than a love of fire magicks.

"I was told that you were the person to see for information," Orion attempted to inquire as he made his way to the counter, but the stress and agitation leaking into his voice made the question sound off.

"Oh yes, of course. Come let's have a look. What will it be? I'm known for my work with hands, but I also have cards or perhaps a crystal ball is more to your liking, my dear?" The witch asked, gesturing to the items in question as she did. Orion bit down both the quip of _Shouldn't_ _ **you**_ _already_ _ **know**_ _which one I'd choose?_ and the need to sneer at the witch's use of such a familiar term.

Fishing into the inner breast pocket of his robe Orion pulled out an unmarked velvet drawstring bag, kept precisely for those times when he needed to bribe someone such as now, and clapped it on the table. It was filled with enough coin to set the witch up nicely for the next three months, at the very least. "None of that," he retorted, attempting to remain somewhat civil, but ultimately failing, "I believe my son Sirius has come down this way. He's nearly five, dark haired and grey-eyed. He was wearing a royal blue outer robe and dragonhide boots. **Have. You. Seen. Him?** " The last part came out with a tendrel of Orion's martial magic laced into the words, leaving behind a distinct feeling of aggression and unease in the air. Invoking magic into words that weren't spells was a trick all Blacks were taught at a young age, it allowed them to control the flow of a conversation better, or just assert their power and authority. a nifty trick they regularly abused.

Old Lawney eyed the drawstring bag on the counter before snatching it up and making it disappear into the folds of her clothing. "The boy ran past here about 20 minutes ago, he slipped out the Jameson Gate. You'll find it by going down the path between the store with the red lantern and the one with the cat statue with the glowing green eyes in the window. Fair warning though, that path leads to Muggle territory," She warned.

"My Thanks," Lord Black threw over his shoulder as he hurried for the door, his mother would have beaten him for such impropriety, then again she'd have beaten him for half the things that had happened today.

 _Merlin's Balls. Muggle London. His Bright Star was lost somewhere in Muggle London. On the plus side, a location spell would work after he was out of the Magical side of London, the only thing keeping it from working_ now _was the wards that kept all things magical hidden. And the Jameson Gate was in Black Territory. On the down side, his son had been in the Muggle world for over 20 minutes. Muggles might not be hunting wix in this day and age but that didn't make their world less dangerous. He knew well enough about Automobiles, Muggle versions of the Knight Bus, and Guns. Plus, with or without magic there were still those people in the world who were merely Monsters playing at being Man._

Finding the shops Old Lawney had told him about, Orion immediatly headed down the little path that ran between them. At first the little way looked like any poorly-lit, dingy old back alley, but after about a minute of hobbling down the cobblestone he felt the magical barrier give way allowing him through. In its place he found himself in a slightly better lit but equally dingy muggle alleyway. Checking to make sure he was completely out of the barrier, Orion lifted his arm into an arc, before twirling his hand and throwing his arm down in a concise motion, mumbling a location spell incantation as he did. He could not reasonably walk around muggle London with his wand out however, this particular spell would work with his wand still in its holster up his sleeve. Instead of pointing him were he needed to go, his wand would nudge his arm in the right direction, leading him without anyone who might see him any the wiser.

Exiting the alley and following his wands subtle hints to head what appeared to be southeast, Orion was thankful to realize that the Modification charms enchanted into his clothes were holding up. As he walked his outer robes changed into an overcoat and his clothing shifted into a slightly stuffy muggle suit, the change missed by any who might see it thanks to the built in Notice-Me-Not that activated when the Modification charm did. Such features had cost a small fortune to have added to his clothing, still he had had all of his attire, and Walburga's, and Sirius's, and even Regulus's baby clothes, fitted with them and several other protective measures.

Hurrying along the sidewalk as fast as he could with his leg throbbing and burning as it was, Orion took stock of his surroundings. The Jameson Gate had been in place for centuries, a gateway between the Magical Market (as the alleys were once called) and the Jameson Estate, the lavish home of a once-wealthy once-magical family. The last magical Jameson had warded down the estate, ensuring his non-magical kin could never attain the house, and after his death the house had fallen into the hands of another family, and then another, and so on until it had reached the House of Black. The Jameson Estate was one of several properties that made up the Black Family's lands in London, it lay no more than 7 or 8 kilometers from Grimmauld Place. (In fact, Orion could feel his house's magic wafting on the air, it was likely that Sirius had sought out the familiar magic.) And while the Estate was kept in pristine condition, and hidden from muggles, like all Black properties, the surrounding neighborhood was not in such good condition. Several businesses were boarded up and some of the buildings appeared condemned.

Rounding a corner, Orion noticed a small gated wooded park ahead, which from the buzzing of his wand was were his son was at. Relief washed through him, his son would soon be home and safe and this hellish day could finally end. He was almost to the park when he heard someone start shouting and the obvious sounds of a fight.

He had just made it into the park when he heard a child's voice over the din, "No! _NO_ _**DON'T**_!" That was his son's voice! Bursting through the undergrowth Orion came upon a scene that would come to haunt him for years to come.

* * *

_Ointments and Unguents 10 minutes before Orion finds Sirius missing_

Sirius Black was having a nice day. He'd woken up early and gotten to spend time with Regulus, something he rarely got to do with all his lessons and _priorities_. The whole family had been at breakfast for once. He'd even been allowed to put blueberries on top of his pancakes, despite lemon and sugar being the 'proper way to eat pancakes' as his Grandmother Irma always said. Then to top it all off Father had requested he come with him to pick up some things in London. Mother had even excused the governess for the day, choosing to take Regulus to visit Uncle Cygnus and his family. Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa did love to dote on little Reggie, who was still in the cute baby stage.

So here Sirius was in a shop down Knockturn Alley with Father. They'd already been to a few other stores to get writing supplies, basic potions ingredients, and owl treats for Hermes, the family's melanistic barn owl. His father had already sent all their purchases back to the house via magic, as he couldn't carry around the excess weight on his injured leg. He could have used magic to carry their purchases, but shrinking and putting a featherlight charm on something wasn't the best idea, sometimes the items fell out of your pockets or got stolen or on one memorable occasion a wizard forgot about a charmed cauldron in his pocket only to set off Gringott's alarms as he entered the bank, the man ended up being escorted to the aurors at spear point.

The little shop they were in wasn't very fun, though some of the potions in the jars looked interesting. Some sparked or sparkled, others seemed to glow, still others seemed to continuously move about swirling to and fro in their glass prisons. The potion his father had come for was a thick sort of paste that seemed to _eat the light around it_ , or maybe it _glowed darkness_ , Sirius wasn't sure. He did know that it smelled sharp and made the air around it taste wrong. Sirius had seen Father apply the paste to his leg every morning since he'd returned from St. Mungos after the Incident, which had happened not long after Regulus was born.

Lord Black purchased a few of the potions in question then went with the owner further into the store, leaving his son up front with a young attendant, Jacob, who looked to be one of the owner's relatives. Bored, the attendant decided to strike up a 'conversation' with the Black Heir.

"So you're the Heir to the _Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ , huh?" the young man asked.

"Yes, I'm Sirius Orion Black, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black." Sirius replied, he had not missed the _tone_ the older boy had used when addressing his house.

"Heard there was another one of you, that true?" the attendant asked, a flash of mischief in his eyes.

"I have a younger brother, Regulus, if that's what your asking." Sirius returned, not liking the way the older was speaking to him or the questioning going on.

"An Heir and A Spare, then huh? Your Parents must be mighty proud. Heard all your cousins were girls." Jacob remarked, a cruel smile pulling at his lips. He didn't much care for all these _holier than thou_ lords and ladies. Messing with their brats was usually fun though, and if the kid got upset their parents usually got mad at them rather than Jacob himself. Most of the time they wanted their kids _seen_ and not _heard_ , which meant the kids excuses for being upset were ignored in favor of discipline for making a scene in public.

"My Brother is not a Spare! And what's wrong with my cousins being girls? They're Ladies of the House of Black." Sirius shot back, trying to keep his temper. He'd inherited _both_ of his parents tempers, sometimes he'd explode like his father, his magic lashing out and raging, other times he'd simmer, waiting to hurt someone as much as possible like his mother. It was a source of exasperation and endearment for both of his parents.

"Sure he is, anything happens to you he becomes Heir. But, if not, he'll spend his life in your shadow. And your cousins will all grow up and be married off into other families, so they won't even be Black Ladies anymore." Jacob taunted. This kid's back talk was annoying him, but he'd figured out that his brother was his weak spot.

"You don't know anything," Sirius fumed. How dare this pimple-covered bastard talk so callously about his house. He didn't know Sirius's family. And he certainly didn't have any right to judge them.

"Heh, you're not that smart are you kid? Maybe that's why your parents had another kid so quick. They needed to replace you as soon as possible." came the young man's cruel reply. Jacob knew the kid was about to crack, then he'd be free of him and his Lordly father both. He might even get to see the kid get a thrashing, that was always good fun. He just needed to push the kid a little harder, so he started jeering the young Black with anything he thought would upset him, without drawing his father's attention of course, he wasn't suicidal. Orion Black may be a has been Dueling Champion, but he still outclassed Jacob in every way possible.

Sirius did his best to grit through the various taunts that were thrown his way, a Black did not stoop to the level of their lessers. (They did get revenge though. And, Sirius was going to make sure both his parents heard about this young man's _interactions_ with him.) However, Sirius lost his cool after Jacob implied the his aunt and uncle should sacrifice one of their daughters to convince the gods to give them a son.

At that moment two older witches entered the shop. The first made a line for the attendant, effectively distracting Jacob from his game of "Bait the Brat", the second entered the shop a few steps behind. Seizing the opportunity to get away, Sirius slipped around the skirts of the second witch and managed to get out without anyone in the shop the wiser. Sirius launched himself out of the store and ran down the alleys as fast as his legs could take him. Taking turn after turn, Sirius had no clue where he was going, especially with the tears clouding his eyes, but he couldn't stop. He didn't even slow down until he felt the telltale tingling of a magical barrier. Coming to a stop at the mouth of the alley he was in he finally took a look at his surroundings. He was in the muggle world he thought, it certainly looked like a poor rundown version of the street outside his home. He was lost. He tried to turn around and go back through the barrier but couldn't.

He was stuck in the muggle world...

Mother was going to be furious.

Sirius got an uncomfortable feeling like he was being watched. Deciding he couldn't just stay in a dirty alley Sirius picked a direction and headed in it. He didn't know what it was, but something in this direction felt right, like the magic that surrounded his family wherever they lived. Maybe he was near home or an estate. As he went Sirius felt his clothing shift, a trick his dad had had put on all his clothes, in case he went somewhere in the wrong clothes.

Sirius had been walking for a few minutes when the feeling of being watched returned. Picking up his pace he continued onwards, the feeling still persisted, but no matter how hard Sirius looked he couldn't see anyone around.

Scared and alone he ran as fast as he could, following the phantom call of the magic in the area, he soon found himself rushing into a gated park. Not paying attention to anything but the magic Sirius ran straight into a man and a girl on a swing.

On the bright side, the feeling of being watched by an unknown shadow was gone, now he was just being watched by the two muggles he had nearly collided with...


	3. A Rough Start

_30 minutes before Orion Black finds the park_

It was a beautiful day out, the first one William hadn't had to work in over three weeks and he planned to take full advantage of it. Which meant today he and Hermione were heading to the little wooded park that was just a short walk from their little apartment.

"Daddy, can we swing today" came the little voice of his daughter walking beside him, swinging their conjoined hands back and forth as she went.

"Sure, Pumpkin, if that's what you want," was Williams humored reply. Every time they went to the park they went through the same routine, Hermione shooting off rapid-fire questions and he or Helen good-naturedly answering them.

"And can we play hide-n-seek?" came Hermione's next question.

"Yes, but you have to stay close by". The East End had never been the greatest place, but ever since the factory down the way had shut down people had been getting desperate. And while William didn't think anyone would hurt them, he still felt the need to keep Hermione close.

It helped that his daughter refused to hide in any of the underbrush for fear of getting twigs or spiderwebs stuck in her hair.

"Okay, but you have to be it first, _I_ found you last time," Hermione reminded him. She had spent a great deal of time trying to find her father the last time they'd played, before finally finding him hiding behind a log off to the side of the park, with the help of Helen's not-so-subtle hints.

"That's right, you did," William acquiesced, his daughter took taking turns rather seriously. It was rather adorable.

"And can we look for things in the creek?" Hermione loved hunting the little creatures that lived in the little creek and pond in the park. Lizards, salamanders, turtles, frogs, and toads could be found in the area, his daughter had a penchant for catching toads in particular.

"Yes, but we have to be careful not to get too dirty. Or else your Mum will get upset." He tried to stress to her. They didn't have the type of money to replace Hermione's clothes over pond scum and mud stains.

"I wish Mummy could have come today." His daughter's mood darkened a little with the reminder of her missing parent. Originally Helen was supposed to come with them today, but someone had called off work and Helen had had to cover the shift. If Helen could swing some overtime they might be able to get someone out to see about the heating system before winter, it had been acting up as spring rolled in and the landlord hadn't seen fit to get it fixed. And likely wouldn't anytime soon.

"I do too, Pumpkin, but Mum has to work today. She would want you to have fun though," William reassured his daughter.

Coming to the end of the sidewalk, just across from the park, William stooped down and picked up his daughter and crossed the road. It wasn't that Hermione couldn't cross the street -it was that William didn't trust his neighbors' driving enough to take the time necessary for his daughter's shorter legs to make the trip across. Once on the other side he returned his daughter to the ground, who promptly disappeared into the park. Upon rounding the little decorative gate into the park William found his daughter struggling to pull herself up onto the old double swing set. She had just managed to climb on and get situated by the time he reached her. Assuming his lauded position of Swing Pusher, William stepped behind his daughter to help her, elsewise she wouldn't actually get off the ground.

Within a few minutes of pushing Hermione had hit the swing's peak height. William had taken to announcing his daughter's achievement in a silly announcers voice, exclamations of "She's getting high, she just might beat the record!", "I've never seen such high swinging before!", and "She's done it! Hermione Granger is the new world swinging champion!" dotted the air, causing his daughter to giggle her head off at the silly announcers voice William used.

William and his daughter were so wrapped up in having a good time that neither noticed a young boy burst into the park until he neared bowled into William and Hermione, on her back swing. Only several years of rugby training allowed William to maneuver the child out of the way in time to avoid Hermione's high speed descent. Startled by the newcomer, Hermione ground her feet into the grass to halt her on her return and dismounted her swing to get a better look a the boy who had just appeared.

Behind the swing William still had a hand on the boy who had nearly run into him, a hand that he was pretty sure was the only thing keeping the kid upright. The boy appeared to have dark brown -near black- hair, a tear-stained face, and was wearing a blue coat, what appeared to be _snakeskin cowboy boots?_ , slacks, and a pressed shirt. He also appeared to wearing a fair amount of jewelry; a ring, a pendant necklace, cufflinks, and a brooch of all things glinted in the sun, in fact, if William wasn't entirely mistaken they looked to be made of _real_ gold and jewels. All-in-all, it was an odd look, especially in this area and weather.

Slowly, William kneeled down so as not to startle the boy, who had yet to actually look at either him or his daughter. Instead he seemed determined to stare a hole through the ground.

"Hello, are you alright? You came blitzing in here pretty fast. My name's William Granger and this is my daughter Hermione. Are your parents around?" William slowly released his hold on the boy as he attempted to soothe him and hopefully coax some sort of answer out of him. His daughter, who was watching his one-sided exchange with open curiosity, was far more blunt.

"Why are you crying? Are you hurt? Did you stub your toe? Did you get bitten by a rabid squirrel? Did you lose your favorite doll? You're pretty, too pretty, are you a changeling? Maggy told us stories about them. Is that why your family left you here? What's your name?" came Hermione's rapid-fire inquisition, stopped only by the need to catch her breath.

The boy had finally looked up at the onslaught and his rapidly reddening face looked to be both dumbfounded and horror-struck. William choked down the chuckles rising in his throat, so as not to upset the boy more.

"I'm not crying!", the boy burst out, finally gathering his wits about him. "Heirs to the House of Black do not cry! And I'm not hurt or stubbed my toe or been bit by a squirrel or any of that baby stuff! _I_ don't play with _stupid_ dolls! I'm not _pretty_ or a _fae_ , and my family didn't leave me!" Jutting his little chin in the air, he proceeded to introduce himself rather snobbishly, which was actually a little impressive given his state, "I'm Sirius Orion Black, Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Pleased to meet you." It was said with the certainty of someone who had introduced themselves in such a manner often before, though William had never heard of the House of Black, perhaps it was one of those old noble houses that still clung to their last dregs of prestige and power.

"I'm Hermione Jean Granger. Pleased to meet you." His daughter replied in an equally swotty voice, unwilling to be cowed, before holding out her hand to shake. The boy, Sirius, eyed the hand questioningly before taking it oddly, flipping it over, and kissing its back. "A pleasure," came his reply, though William highly doubted the sentiment.

"You're _weird_ " Hermione remarked, pulling her hand back and wrinkling her nose.

" _You're_ weird" Sirius retorted back, crossing his arms over his chest.

While it was amusing to watch the two children interact, William was worried. Nobody had appeared to claim Sirius yet and he couldn't hear anyone calling his name along the streets.

"Sirius, where are your parents at? You shouldn't be out here alone." William spoke up, effectively breaking up the small name-calling match that the children had descended into.

"I don't know, Father and I were at the shop. Then I got upset and ran out, and I got lost, and now I'm here. Father will come for me soon." Sirius seemed to lighten at the mention of his father coming to retrieve him.

"Which shop?" William asked. "The one with the potions and ointments," was Sirius's puzzling reply. _Potions and ointments, kids have such active imaginations, he probably meant the pharmacy three roads over,_ William thought to himself. That wasn't too far so his father should be nearby. Calling the police to help was an option, but William would have to take the kids home just to make the call as there were no pay phones near, not to mention it was in the opposite direction of the pharmacy. Going to the pharmacy itself wasn't the best idea as there were at least four routes between it and the park, and his father could be anywhere. Making up his mind, William decided that if the boy's father didn't show up in the next 15 minutes or so they'd make the trek up to the pharmacy and call the police from there if they didn't find the man on the way.

"Well, until your father gets here why don't you stick around and play with us?" William asked, hoping to keep the boy in one place without having to physically detain him. He couldn't go running around covered in a bunch of shiny baubles, talking like some posh brat, and not attract attention. William and Hermione had lived in this neighborhood for years, they were relatively safe. This kid, however, didn't stand a chance.

"I guess so. What kind of game were you playing?" Sirius asked, scuffing his snakeskin - _were they snakeskin?_ \- boots on the ground.

"We were swinging. Well I was swinging, Daddy was pushing. He can push you, too, if you want!". Apparently William's invitation to play meant that all had been forgiven in Hermione's mind. Then again, most of the other kids in the tenant building were older or younger than her which meant that she often felt like an outsider when playing with them, so maybe she was just happy to have someone to play with closer to her age.

"If it's not any trouble," was Sirius's hesitant reply. Seeing William's smile and nod toward the swings both children hopped onto the playset. William returned to his position as Swing Pusher, this time moving between pushing his daughter and her new friend. The two children were soon laughing and having a good time, Sirius was looking a lot better with a smile on his face.

After a while William's arms started to ache and he couldn't continue, he wasn't used to pushing two children on the swings. Rather than be upset, the children instead decided to play hide-n-seek. William was of course _It_. And Sirius was given the rules of staying within a short distance of the play area. He'd quickly decided to give William his jacket for safe keeping, as the bright blue cover would easily give him away. A rather strategic move for a game of Hide-n-seek that left William with the oddest feeling that his daughter and her new friend likely shared a competitive streak.

William counted to thirty slowly, hoping to give each of the children time to find a decent hiding place. A good idea, if the sounds of scuffling behind him were anything to go by. By the time he had finished a good minute had passed. Lifting off of the tree he had leaned on to count from, he started to make his way slowly around the small play area and the surrounding shrubbery. He made a grand show of checking absolutely _everywhere_ for the two kids, but _oh, he just couldn't find them_. He took his time, checking under the swings, under the slide, then up it's ladder, he even slid down it to make sure they weren't at the bottom. He went looking through the tall grass, and around the little shrubs, and steadfastly ignored his daughter's quiet giggle coming from the evergreen bush near the log he had hidden behind last time. He pretended not to see Sirius's little boots peeking out of the copse of trees he'd chosen to hide in, his bright eyes sneaking a look at William every so often.

After searching around the park in more and more obscure places (much to the amusement of both children) William chose to 'find' his daughter first. He had no wish to make Sirius 'it'. Sirius was already alone, playing a game where both he and his daughter hid from the boy seemed a little cruel. That, and Sirius had already admitted he was a runner when he got upset. So instead he turned and headed back through the tall grasses slowly making his way towards the overgrown bush that his daughter was in, being sure not to make it too obvious he knew she was there. He pretended to inspect the plant as he bent over it, before splitting open the branches with a triumphant "Aha!" as he 'discovered' Hermione inside.

At the same moment Hermione let out a small childish shriek at being found, a terror-filled scream came from the other side of the playground.

William whipped around in time to see Sirius running from a disheveled, obviously intoxicated, man. Unfortunately, the drunk was surprisingly swift despite being heavily impaired and was able to grab Sirius by the arm and drag him back. The Grangers stared, rooted to the ground with horror.

"Lookie wha' we 'ave 'ere!", the man exclaimed, "a dolly lil' rich boy. All da way aaught 'ere on dis side ov town? Whatcha doin' aaght 'ere pret'y boy?". The drunk asked as he lifted Sirius into the air by his shirt front. Sirius could smell the cheap liquor on the man's rotting breath and see the teeth going bad inside his head. It was enough to make him gag -which seemed to offend his attacker.

"Yous fnk yous be'er than me? Huh? I'll learn yew, yew lil' brat! Hows 'bouts I knock sum ov tha' attitude aaht ov ya, and may'e a few teef 'long wiv?" came the wretch's threat.

Sirius, who rarely kept his tongue in check on a good day, couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Go ahead, I'll still look a fair bit better than you I'd say," he shot back. This pissed the drunk right off, he reared back a fist and aiming to clock Sirius in the face. Suddenly, William appeared and tackled the man to the ground starting a brawl and freeing Sirius in the process.

"Run!"

* * *

_Fight scene_

_William was_ _fucked_ _. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, whether from the adrenaline or sheer terror he didn't know. Davon Krane, the drunk bastard he currently had pinned down, was one of the nastiest works the East End had to offer. Everyone knew he'd killed a few men in bar fights, though nothing was proven and no one was talking. Rumor had it he'd offed, or 'helped' off, a few of the working girls in the area and left them rotting in the Thames. If so, the guy was trying real hard to be the second coming of Jack the Ripper. Some of those bodies were completely unidentifiable._

_And, fuck._

_He was fighting the guy._

_Krane slugged William the second he realized what had happened. Hit after hit, Blow after blow, arms, chest, head, anywhere he could reach. William tried his best to weather and avoid what he could, but he wasn't a fighter. A few years of rugby as a teen was no match for someone who'd spent their life on these streets._

_One hit finally landed hard enough to knock him from on top of Davon, who jumped to his feet and kneed William in the head, sending him to the ground. Krane snarled like a rabid animal. "_ I'll K'll You, Yew fuckin' wanker!" _Krane's kicks met William's gut and head. He felt the_ _ **snap**_ _of his nose breaking. He could barely breathe. Spit and blood spilt from his mouth. His left eye was starting to swell. Blood poured into the right from the cut on his forehead, clouding the world around him in crimson. He heard the_ _dry **crunch**_ _of his ribs cracking, he wasn't sure how many._

_Everything hurt._

_Krane let out a laugh, breathless and satisfied. He bent down and ripped William up by his hair, so he could face him. "Jut' wan'ed ter snatch da brat's shiny bits, but now i fnk I'll 'ave some fun wiv da brats. Dey'll fe'ch a fair price d'wn at da docks." He leered over William's head at Sirius and Hermione who stood frozen save the tears streaming down their faces and the tremors wracking their bodies. Hermione hadn't been able to leave her father despite Sirius's attempts to move her, in the end he had stayed rather than abandon her there alone. Both children were unable to look away from Williams broken body._

_Krane dropped William, stepping on him as he made a grab for Hermione and Sirius. Hatred welled up in William's heart._

_Davon Krane was **not** going to touch them. Not Today. **Not Ever**._

_William grabbed Krane's foot , pulling and twisting as hard as he could. With a sharp **Snap**_ _**!** _ _he dislocated the bastard's ankle. Krane crashed to the ground howling._

_Furious, drunk, and delirious from the sudden pain, Krane pulled a thin switchblade out of his pocket and rounded on William. "Yew Fuck, I'll deal wiv yew firs'!" He sank the blade into William's shoulder. He sat on William's chest and wrapped his hands around his throat. He wanting to squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands._

_Grinning through the blood cloying in his teeth William ripped the blade out of his shoulder and dug it into the other man's gut. His liver, if he remembered his anatomy correctly. Triumph flooded him as Davon stared dumbfounded at the blade sticking out of him._

_Krane was livid upon realizing William had stabbed him. He pulled back his fist and blitzed William in the head once,twice,three times, stopping only after the other man went completely limp. He grunted as he pulled the switchblade out of his stomach, the wound poured blood but he didn't seem to care._

_A wicked smile stole across his face as he aimed at the fallen man's heart. He was determined to end this permanently. As the blow came arcing downwards he heard the boy shout "No! NO_ _**DON'T!** _ _", followed by a blinding light._

_Then_

_Nothing._

* * *

_Sirius and Hermione_

He watched terrified as the man that had tried to take him beat Hermione's father. Mr. Granger had told them to run, but he'd been unable to move Hermione, and he'd been raised better than to leave a young lady in need. It was one of the few lessons that extended across all blood statuses, not just for purebloods. ( _Mother_ taught him _that_. And Mother was _always_ right. _Father_ taught him that.) So he'd chosen to stay and protect her if need be.

Sirius stepped in front of Hermione as the drunk man made a move to come at them. It proved to be unnecessary as Mr. Granger pulled the man to the ground, twisting his foot as he did, causing it to **crack**. With a howl the bastard had crawled back to Hermione's father and proceeded to plunge a knife he'd pulled from him pocket into William's shoulder. Mr. Granger pulled the knife out as the drunk tried to choke him and sank it into the other man's gut.

It took all of Sirius's strength to stop Hermione from running over and intervening. The girl was crying harder than he'd ever seen anyone cry before and he had no idea what to do to help. The man punched Hermione's father so hard he went limp. Sirius watched as he pulled the knife out of his own body and held it up aiming to stab Mr. Granger in the chest.

Then it hit him.

**_Magic_**

If he could channel his magic, he could help Mr. Granger. It was against the rules, but he knew he had to do something.

Sirius rushed forwards pulling at the swirling vortex that lived inside him. "No! NO **DON'T!** " He pushed power into the words and threw up his arms, the magic he had managed to pool exploded out of him like a shock wave that hit the drunk man head on. Said man was sent careening through the air before landing hard several feet away.

With the drunken man out cold Hermione rushed to her father's side. Mr. Granger was in bad shape and Sirius felt uncomfortable seeing Hermione cry over her father's body, especially since he was crying over the man too. Knowing the magic he'd used could easily wear off without a proper spell, Sirius posted himself as a guard for the Granger duo.

He hoped that someone who could help would arrive soon.

* * *

_Orion's arrival_

The scene Orion found when he made it into the park was awful. Two muggle men lay on the ground, with his son and another child surrounding one. Both appeared to be crying viscously. The man closer to him reeked of alcohol with one foot twisted in an odd way. He was bleeding from a wound to the gut and appeared to be _stupifyed?_ The second man, who Sirius appeared to be _guarding_ like an attack dog, looked like he had been through a meat grinder. His face was bruised and bleeding, his shirt had ridden up revealing a bloated belly and lopsided chest, meaning the man likely had internal damage, and he was lying in a slowly growing pool of blood that seeped out of a shoulder. The other child, a girl who was likely the broken man's daughter, was crying while she held the hand of his still good arm.

"Sirius!" Orion would be truly ecstatic at having found his son, if it weren't for the situation at hand. His son, who had been previously scouring the tree line, whipped around upon hearing his voice.

"Father!? Please you have to help!" he pleaded. The little girl beside didn't even stir to acknowledge the man's arrival. Not that he blamed her, she appeared to be in shock as she mumbled and petted the bludgeoned man's hair.

"What happened here? Are you hurt?" Orion questioned as he drew up to his son. He looked a little disheveled but didn't show any apparent sign of harm. He cast a sly diagnostic charm just in case. It came back negative.

"I'm fine Father. Mr. Granger and Hermione let me join them while I waited for you. But, that bastard tried to grab me," at this Sirius pointed at the reeking man, "but Mr. Granger saved me. Then the bastard tried to kill Mr. Granger!" _He'd let his son's profanity slide for now. Because, Yes,_ Orion thought, _it certainly_ _looked_ _like the other man had tried to kill Mr. Granger._ If the man didn't get help soon, he wasn't likely to make it.

"And, Father? I...I used magic to stop him." his son confessed in a small voice. Orion sighed, now he'd have to deal with the Aurors and possibly the Obliviators who dealt with accidental magic. What a headache, it seems they wouldn't be going home as soon as he hoped. Lord Black took in the man his son had hit with his not-so-accidental magic and felt pride well up in him. Despite being just under five years old Sirius had managed to take out a full grown man, an inebriated muggle yes, but a grown man nonetheless.

Orion bent down at Mr. Granger's side as best he could, Sirius had said the man had saved his life, and Orion had felt the weight of magic in those words. Which meant Sirius wasn't exaggerating, the House of Black owed 'Mr. Granger' a life debt. One that Orion would willingly repay here and now. They were alone and a quick Muggle Repelling charm would ensure it stayed that way.

He slipped his wand out of its holster, cast the Repelling charm, and began a series of complex diagnostic spells. The man in front of him had internal bleeding, a stab wound in one shoulder, two concussions, a cracked skull and cheekbone, a forehead laceration, a broken nose, several cracked ribs, and major and minor bruising across his body. He'd need the internal bleeding, the concussions, and the cracked skull dealt with immediately at the very least. He'd also need the stab wound sealed some or he could bleed to death.

Luckily, as none of the injuries were magically induced, Orion would be able to heal them well enough. He had had to learn rudimentary healing when dueling so he could continue to fight so long as the damage wasn't extensive. And while these wounds were lethal, they would take much longer to kill a wix than a muggle. It helped that aside from the beating, the man was in perfect health.

After placing a Tourniquet Charm on the stab wound, Orion set to work healing the internal bleeding. Mr. Granger had a ruptured spleen and several bruised internal organs. It took three casts of the Organ-Mending spell to repair the ruptured spleen and half a dozen Blood Restoration Spells to fix the internal bleeding and bruising. The Cranial Stabilizing Spells fixed the cracked skull and concussions. And he used a Vulnera Sanentur to partially heal the man's stab wound, leaving most of it behind so as not to alert anyone to Mr. Granger's 'miraculous healing'. Mr. Granger would live, but he would still need a trip to the hospital.

Lord Black stood back to look at his work. The other man's face had become less swollen thanks to the Blood Restoration Spells and his belly looked mostly normal and no longer like it was about to burst, though some of the outer bruising remained. Orion knew he could not fully heal the man, or he would have to Obliviate him afterwards, which shouldn't be done so soon after a head injury. Instead, he would have to leave Granger with the non-fatal injuries he'd received during the fight.

"Who are you?" came a croaky voice off to the side.

The little girl who sat on the other side of her father had finally looked up from her crying, and she was currently giving Orion a defensive stare. He had forgotten the child was there at all. She'd not made a sound during the healing, though she eyed his wand closely, so he knew she'd seen him perform the magic, even if she didn't know what he'd done.

"Lord Orion Arcturus Black, I'm Sirius's Father," He replied. "Oh," the girl mumbled still staring at the wand in his hand. She appeared to be concentrating very hard, and Orion could only wonder what she thought of him. A strange man with strange abilities, saving her father from death's door.

"Father, this is Hermione Granger and that's her father William," Sirius supplied, trying to cover for the young girl's less than stellar response. "She's turning five soon, like me," he stressed. _Thank goodness_ , Orion realized. He wouldn't have to obliviate the girl, Hermione. No child under the age of eight could have their mind tampered with, magical or not. Most muggles just waved off children claiming magic as having an overactive imagination. And there was something intrinsically wrong with raping a child's mind, Orion wasn't sure he could do such a thing.

"You saved my Daddy, didn't you?" The little girl asked, her eyebrows scrunching up in question.

"Yes," there was no use lying to the girl, "but, you can't tell anyone. Do you understand?" He highly doubted she did.

"Ok, I guess. But, only cause you saved my Daddy." Orion could live with that. He moved to the man his son had knocked out. A quick diagnostic charm told Orion the man suffered minor bruising and a barely lacerated liver (apparently from the stab wound). He also had a range of venereal diseases, kidney and liver failure, and slight malnutrition. Another quick Organ-Mending charm ensured the man would be fine for the time being, which was good because Orion had _plans_.

Lord Black's Legilimancy skills weren't Mastery worthy, but the muggle man before had no mental defenses to hide behind. A Renneverate followed by a Body-Bind and a Langlock allowed Orion unfettered access to the bastard's mind. He had expected the man glaring at him to be scum, but the things that lived in his head made Lord Black want to execute him there and then. Finding everything he needed he released his spell, stupifyed _Davon Krane,_ and Obliviated him.

In the distance Orion could hear other people approaching the park. He quickly dismantled the Muggle-Repelling charm and bent down over William, appearing for all intents and purposes to be checking the other man's vitals. As the newcomers rounded the corner to the park Orion called out to them, "Hurry! Get help! This man's been attacked!"

The group of children that had just entered stood frozen ( _where were their parents?_ ) before one broke off and ran up the street to get help. Orion turned to Hermione, put his finger to his lips in the universal sign of _hush,_ and Disillusioned himself and his son out of view of the others and waited for the proper authorities to arrive. Within a few minutes sirens sounded from down the road and Orion used the noise to cover his and his son's Apparition home.

Neither realizing that Sirius transformed cloak and brooch had been left behind.

* * *

It would be many years before either Hermione or Sirius realized they had met that day. But, the circumstances still shaped both them and their families in the years to come, and set them all on a crash course with both magical society and the Wizarding War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know this chapter isn't very Sirius/Hermione centric but the first few arcs (each pretty small) are gonna be pre-hogwarts, and they aren't ~really~ gonna meet until then. Though there is going to be another Black/Granger run in each of the first arcs as the Granger/Black dynamic cements. And other interactions, but not between Hermione and any of the younger Blacks.
> 
> The fight scene was broken off to change perspective and let readers skip if they wanted to. It's not great, but neither is the rest of the writing. I'm just glad it's legible.
> 
> Right, so in case you can't read my attempt at a drunk man slurring in crap cockney:
> 
> "Look what we have here!" - "a dolly (cockney for pretty?) little rich boy. All the way out here on this side of town? What are you doing out here pretty boy?"
> 
> "You think your better than me? Huh? I'll teach you a lesson, you little brat! How about i knock some of that attitude out of you, and maybe a few teeth along with?"
> 
> "I'll kill you, you fucking wanker!"
> 
> "Just wanted to snatch the brat's shiny bits (referring to Sirius's jewelry), but now i think i'll have some fun with the brats. They'll fetch a fair price down at the docks."
> 
> "You fuck, I'll deal with you first."


	4. Home at Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a delightfully awful day at work so y'all are getting this chapter a week early. Enjoy.
> 
> Also, if you want to binge the original first several chapters can be found on FanFiction.Net, this one will eventually catch up and they’ll both start getting semi regular updates. You can also find me under the same name on Tumblr if you have questions or comments.

_**Grimmauld Place** _

_Crack!_

The sound of apparition splits the air as Orion and his son arrive on the front porch of 12 Grimmauld Place. Sirius appears pale and shaken, Orion notes, keeping a firm grasp on his son, as the stress and strain of the day finally catching up to him. Luckily, his son only appears to be exhausted and not hurt. There would have been hell to pay if he'd had so much as a scratch on him. 

It was likely there still would be, Orion has never been a man to do things by halves.

Turning with his son still in hand, Orion raps the front door with his cane thrice. He mistakenly shifts his weight as he waits, nearly sending himself to the ground when he does. His bad leg is by now burning all the way from knee to the hip, and the expanse below has grown stiff and numb, almost wooden, feeling closer to the limbs of a dead man than to one living. Nothing new there, but Orion will needs to apply his ointment soon or he's likely to be bedridden for days (mostly because Walburga isn't afraid to tie him to the headboard and leave him there to go about her day, if she thinks he is ' _overextending himself again_ '. And the damn elf will side with her as always).

In spite of his pain he remains upright, unwilling to release his son when he is in such a state or show weakness at such a distressful time. Sirius had remained mostly collected while they were in the park -likely from shock- but that would not last long. Orion knew from years of duels to the near death that once that damn broke there would be a flood.

The front door creaks as Kreacher finally arrives to open it.

"Master Orion, Young Master Sirius. Mistress Walburga wishes Kreacher to tells you she be waiting in the Drawing Room for your return."

The elf bows and ushers Orion and his son into the manor. 

_Naturally, Walburga is already waiting for them to get home._ Comes Orion's thoughts unbidden. _They are nearly two hours late. Walburga had likely come home right after a light lunch at her brother's house and it is nearly Tea now._

"Inform my wife I will be there in just a moment," Orion replies. Kreacher bows once more, then disappears with a quiet _pop_.

"Sirius - _son_ , " Orion looks down to his son, who raises his head, eyes slowly, haltingly, trailing upwards to meet his father's gaze, "It's been a long day, how about you go get some rest. We can talk about what happened tomorrow." His son nods, exhausted relief showing on his face as his once tense shoulders collapse in on him.

The sight strikes something in Orion, a phantom thing part pain, part longing.

In a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness Orion pulls his son to him and holds him there with his free arm, willing as much comfort as he can into the gesture. Sirius stands stiff for a second, unused to his Father's embrace, then wraps his small arms around his father's good leg and sags into the, _quite literally_ , one-sided embrace. When he finally pulls away his eyes are wet again, but look decidedly less dead than they had just minutes before.

Both father and son trudge their way up the entrance hall stairs. Orion stops on the second floor and waits to make sure his son makes it up to the third and into the nursery before heading down the hall and into the Drawing Room.

Upon entering the room Orion finds Kreacher serving his wife tea at the small side table corned between their two armchairs. His wife is wearing a simple but elegant gown of silver-grey and lavender with violet stitching and fit for the warm weather outside. The gown is one of her favorites, she's owned one version or another of it since they'd gotten married years before, only ever retiring one dress when she has another version commissioned in the newest fashion trend. It drives her seamstress mad, not that Orion is complaining, he has seen what the _other_ society witches wear. The robes are cut to show off his wife's willowy figure and emphasized her Black family Stormy Blue-grey eyes (in contrast to his own Slate-grey, though both are known characteristics of their House) and her unique blonde hair with its inky midnight streaks running along her temples.

His wife's appearance has captured the attention of many, whether it was the boys in class when they'd gone to school at Hogwarts, other Heirs of Great Houses, various cousins near-and-far, or even foreign dignitaries at ministry galas. Defending his then-cousin-now-wife's 'honor' from his classmates had landed him several detentions and had been one of the reasons he'd taken up dueling. Not that she hadn't enjoyed it, Walburga is a notorious tease, most just didn't realize it because the woman was subtle enough that even their fellow Slytherins hadn't known they were being worked over.

It was a game for them. Walburga would enthrall some poor sap (not _really_ poor considering she only chose talented wizards from affluent families) and Orion would teach them that, like Icarus, they had flown too close to the sun. Such frivolities had ended with the near loss of his leg that had led to the end of his dueling career.

Walburga finally looks up at his intrusion and scrutinizes her husband. She is not pleased in her findings if the squinting eyes, flared nostrils, and the grim set of her mouth are anything to go by. She deftly plucks her wand from the side table and flicks it at him twice mumbling under her breathe before replacing it on the table. The feeling of a light breeze and the strong smell of soap tell him his wife has cast a Freshening Charm and a Scourgify on him.

 _He must have looked worse than he thought_. The thought is almost enough to make him laugh. He'd come out of hours long duels without his wife needing to 'scrub him down' before allowing him near her. _Then again Walburga had enjoyed his dueling as much as he had and had often initiated her own 'duel' not long after._

"I've sent Sirius to bed, he's had a long day. He'll need a calming draught and dreamless sleep potion." He spoke, his words meant for both his wife and Kreacher. Kreacher acquiesces and pops away, knowing that he has been given an order to care for his Young Master, and dismissal from the coming conversation. He will not return to the drawing room until he is called.

"A long day?" Walburga starts, pouring him tea as he seats himself in the armchair adjacent to hers. Her words are polite but he knows his wife well enough to taste the derision in them, even if it cannot be heard, "You have been gone a long time, My Lord."

Walburga only refers to him as 'My Lord' when she is either very, very pleased with him or very, very not. _He hopes she hasn't poisoned his tea. ~~Again.~~_

"What kept you?" she inquires lightly, belying the dangerous look in her eyes. _Correction, he hopes it was only a mild poison or slow acting enough he can get himself an antidote or at least a bezoar. The Gods knew Kreacher would only make things worse in order to garner his wife's favor._

Orion let out a sigh of exhaustion.

"It's a long story. And I don't yet have all of the details myself, but you deserve to know. Sirius ran off while we were in Knockturn," Walburga seems to freeze at this, her look incredulous, "by the time I knew he was gone he had slipped out into the muggle world."

Her eyes are wide and she clenches her jaw so tight he thinks he can hear something, possibly her teeth, cracking.

"He had somehow made his way to a park near the Jameson estate,"

_CrAck_

"and was being entertained by a girl around his age and her father."

She says nothing, though he knows neither of them are happy with the idea of their son interacting with muggles. 

"Then some vile Bastard that had spotted him tried to rob and assault him,"

_Crack~_ _**Crack** _ _~Crack_

"the man with the daughter, William, tried to protect him. By the time I arrived the man was bruised, broken, and lying in a pool of his own blood."

_CracK_

He knows it is the thought of what the Man would have done to their son that fuels his wife's cold rage.

"Sirius was standing guard over the man when I arrived, he'd used his magic to take the other man, _Davon_ , out."

The smile that curves its way across her face has too much teeth, it looks like a _threat_.

_~~Maybe~~ It Is._

"I checked over Sirius then healed the man, William, without being too obvious, made sure the girl was safe and brought Sirius home. He's mostly unharmed, but seeing the muggle that was defending him nearly get murdered has definitely upset him. We'll need to talk to him in the morning, for now he'll need his rest."

Orion sags back into his seat, just telling his wife the basics of their day has taken most of his remaining energy.

He feels aged somehow.

Tomorrow's discussion will likely be far worse.

Walburga eyes him critically over her tea and purses her lips, seeming to contemplate something and then passes her husband a scone from the small platter between them. "You need your rest as well," his wife says quietly, simply, before rising from her chair and gliding towards the door.

 _The 'My Lord' is gone, that's a good sign,_ Orion thinks. The scone is _hopefully_ the antidote to whichever concoction is in the tea.

"I will check on the nursery, and see to anything that needs immediate attention. Get some sleep" are his wife's last words before slipping out of the door and up towards the Nursery and their sleeping sons.

_Crack_

Orion turns to find Walburga's teacup resting perched on its saucer. There are fine spindly cracks coating its entirety.

_Crack_

A miniscule flare of magic, mere residue left behind by his wife's touch, races along the cup before entering the saucer, decorating it too, in cracks.

_Crack~Crack_

Both cup and saucer crumble in on themselves, like an ancient ruin being devoured by an earthquake.

It feels as ominous. _Walburga has not lost such control in years._

Tomorrow will definitely be worse.

* * *

_**In the Nursery** _

Upon trudging through the door to the nursery Sirius heads straight to Regulus's crib desperate to assure himself that his little brother is still safe and sound. There is no need to, as it was not _Regulus_ who had gotten himself lost in the muggle world that day.

But fear left little room for rationality, and the Blacks have always been a protective and possessive lot on a good day.

Regulus, for his part, remains sleeping even as his older brother crawls up into his admittedly ~ _indulgently~_ large crib and proceeds to cuddle close to his brother, petting and stroking him wherever he can reach . The only indication Regulus gives that he is even aware of his brother's presence is when he manages to grab hold of a lock of Sirius's hair, forcing his brother to crawl closer or suffer his rather formidable grip.

Regulus, known for being the best behaved baby in _at least_ the last four generations of the House of Black ( _everyone_ said so), has a herculean grip and Will. Not. Let. Go. It is so bad that a previous governess had once had to sever one of her own locks to get free when he kicked up a particularly large fuss. She was, of course, immediately fired. For if _Regulus_ did not like her then she was not to be trusted. (They were proven correct when Kreacher caught her stealing on her way out, not that he stopped her, the anti-theft curse activated the moment she crossed into the floo and sent her straight into the admitting area for the ministry holding cells).

For once, Sirius does not begrudge his little brother his hair pulling ways. The tiny sharp pain is enough to ground him for the time being.

Eventually, an eternity -or maybe only a moment- later Kreacher arrives bearing a set of potions. The normally cantankerous elf says nothing about Sirius being in his brother's crib (though he is _technically_ forbidden from being in it). With the help of some rather impressive bends and gymnastic feats (as Regulus has yet to relinquish his hold) Sirius is able to down the two medicinal potions and a third that acts as more of a palette cleanser than any real benefit. Not that it isn't a beneficial in and of itself, most potions have wretched aftertastes.

Sirius is fast asleep by the time his Mother arrives to check on him and his brother. Walburga reaches the crib in a few long strides, her hands immediately seeking to assure herself that her son is alright. She may not be the most loving mother, but she cares for her sons in her own ways.

Having assured herself that her son is unharmed, she takes it upon herself to ensure that he is safe.

Walburga raises her wand into the air and silently activates the most powerful wards their home and lands have. Nothing, no spell -nor ministry official, can be allowed to sense what she does next. And for good reason. Her next spell is a secret that only Walburga, her brothers, and her husband know of.

And an unbreakable vow ensures that none of them will ever speak of it.

Taking in a deep breath Walburga pulls all of her magic into herself, this spell of her own making -born of her blood and sacrifice- has no words, no wand movements, only will and intent. As she breathes out she releases everything, letting every bit of magic out, pouring out of her body, wrapping around her family, crawling up and over the walls of her home, cascading out into the surrounding lands before pulsing out across the wards and into the world beyond. Should anyone or anything try to come near her family they will be _unmade_. 

In his en suite, seeing to his cursed wound, Orion shifts, his poise changing to something ethereal and predatory. His wife's magic evoking a rumbling purr from his throat. In his home half the country away Cygnus Black's face splits into a grin with too many teeth, his eyes glint with malice, a business associate he had invited over for drinks immediately agrees to his terms and signs the contract, then makes his excuses to leave as quickly as possible. Leagues away in France, Alphard Black bursts into cruel, barking laughter. The young socialite who had been attempting to 'seduce' him looks affronted, then belatedly fearful as she scurries away from the eldest Black son -whom the family madness clearly hadn't skipped, as so many had believed.

More than a thousand kilometers apart both Black Brothers toast to the health and longevity of the House of Black and their Lady sister, _long may she reign_.

* * *

_**Brief interlude: That Night** _

It was on a very rare occasion that anything dares to wake the Lord and Lady of the House of Black while they slept. Nobody is stupid enough to Floo call that late and Apparition doesn't work unless you are keyed into the wards. And if some fool does manage to make it to the house Kreacher will happily toss them out on their arse, with some obscure elf curse added in for good measure.

So when something comes scrounging up Orion and Walburga Black's sheets in the early hours of the morning both could honestly say they are more than a little startled. It is a combination of good instincts, an ability to recognize familial magic, and sheer dumb luck that ensures young Sirius is met with his parents inquisitive, sleep addled looks and not the ends of their wands.

Upon realizing his parents are, in fact, awake Sirius freezes, his face reminiscent of the time he'd been caught sneaking sweets from Uncle Alphard's pantry.

"Sorry", he whispers, eyes downcast. He knows he's not meant to come into his parents' rooms unless it is an emergency.

Orion's eyes drift to his wife's as a silent agreement passes between them. _This IS an emergency._ Their son needs them, tonight is not a night to be left alone, no 'lesson in growing up' as they'd been raised.

It is Walburga who extends her hand and pulls their son up to rest between them and while neither parent cuddles their son each rest a hand on him, an anchor to ground him.

"Bright Star, you will always be safe with us. Never forget that."

Sniffling Sirius curls down to sleep, surrounded on both sides by the protective embrace of his parents and soothed to sleep by their formidable magics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't want Kreacher to sound too much like how JK writes house elf speech. It sounds too much like the old Uncle/Mammi tropes, which were horribly racist and leave me uncomfortable to even listen to. So instead elves will have issues with verb tenses (the idea is that elves think differently than wix do, especially when it comes to time or pronouns). Also, house elves are going to be more than slaves/stereotypes, and more like how elves/brownies are in mythology. Creatures who siphon off magic and in return offer aid.
> 
> Also, Orion is the one addressing Sirius at the End: Bright Star is one of his pet names for him.


	5. The Morning After

_**Sirius's Side** _

The next morning Sirius wakes up in his parent's bed late and finds himself alone. Kreacher, sensing the boy has awoken appears in record time and insists he make his way down to the parlor to eat a late breakfast with his parents. A simple flick of his mother's wrist has the tea pouring itself, they are using a new tea set Sirius notes, while a similar motion from his father has a small plate of food prepare itself at the small buffet along the wall. Kreacher stands idle, a sentry manning the door.

Sirius takes the food his parents offer him and sits down to eat. The despair that had begun to descend over him once he had fully awakened lifts and he finds himself able to think more clearly. The effects of a mild calming draught in the tea and the soothing return of his parents magic and a good night's rest, aided by said magic.

Familial magic born of parental bonds can be exceedingly powerful, and though Orion and Walburga have never been the kindest of parents they are still fiercely protective of their young sons. A feeling that extends to their siblings and their nieces as well.

After yesterday, it makes sense that Sirius's parents would keep him sedated for the time being. They are likely even sedated themselves. Blacks don't do well with emotions and they're all going to feel some volatile ones rather soon*.

Luckily Walburga has already taken Regulus via Floo to Cygnus's house and handed him off to the girls governess to ensure there would be neither distractions from their discussions nor would he run the risk of being caught in any magical backlash caused by his family, as unlikely as that was. Walburga's spell the previous night meant that nobody save close family -and even then only those that she approves of- will be able to enter their family estates for the time being, this means no outsiders will be able to enter the premises. As such, their own family governess has unfortunately been given an impromptu vacation, paid of course- they aren't animals, unlike _some_ families. And Sirius's tutors have been similarly dismissed for the time being.

"Sirius", his father's voice is calm and still a little gruff from sleep.

Orion waits until his son has finished his breakfast before bringing up the issue at hand, "We need to know what happened yesterday. Why did you run off? How did you end up in the muggle world? Why were you with those Muggles? And what happened with that man?"

His parents are not outright interrogating him -or at least not in a way that indicates they are angry with him-, yesterday's fiasco was one of those few occasions where the need to see to their son's safety is enough to override any anger or disappointment they might feel towards his 'unbecoming behavior'.

"I didn't mean to run off, I was just so angry! I was upset and all I could think about was that I needed to get out before I lost control" Brow furrowed, Sirius answer comes out contrite and a little high pitched, making him sound every bit the child he is.

Orion exchanges a quizzical look with his wife, "Angry? We were only supply shopping. What made you angry?"

A sneer steals across Sirius's face at the question and his eyes flash, in the moment he looks every bit his mother's son.

Sitting in her wing-backed chair Walburga smiles into her tea -her son's Black temper always brings her such pride. Proof that he is her and her husband's child through and through.

"The shop boy was acting out of line. He was rude and took a tone with me . He insulted Reggie and the Girls and myself, too! He made crass remarks _About Our House and..._ "

Here Sirius stops himself, heaving, nostrils flaring, teeth gritting as his sneer becomes a full blown snarl. He can feel his magic burning through his body, a hot singing hum dancing along his veins and warming his bones.* He fights the urge to get up and rage, a habit he'd gotten from his father. Instead he balls his hands into fists and presses them down into his still pajamaed thigh.

"Scourcher**, What else did he say?" It's his mother who addresses him this time. Her face is a comforting smile that doesn't reach her cold Sea-Storm eyes, he knows she isn't angry with him but the look is still terrifying. His slight fear doesn't stop the vindictive glee from blooming in his heart, the shop boy has just earned the Lady Black's attention and become his mother's newest prey.

Few people are aware of his mother's true nature, she plays her part as a regal society wife very well.

More fool them.

"He said Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella should _sacrifice one of the girls to appease the gods because_ _Clearly_ _they had angered them to get three_ _Worthless_ _daughters. That Bella was doomed to be put down like a dog anyway, that is would be a mercy to Andy rather than let her die an old maid, and Cissy probably wasn't even a Black to begin with!_ "

A sharp intake of breath and a hiss respectively from his parents echoes into the room. His parents magics pool out of them, writhing within the confines of the room. His mother's cold and crackling meeting his father's dry heat and static. Sirius can feel the reaction like the feeling of an oncoming storm. Then a _Snap!_ And it's gone in a rush of inhuman magic. His parent's ambient magic that had been quickly filling the room is rerouted into Grimmauld Place itself with a snap of Kreacher's gnarled fingers.

Cygnus's daughter's are well loved by their aunt and uncle who have doted on them since birth .Walburga is quite certain she and Orion are the only thing that keeps some of the lesser family members from acting out concerning her brother's lack of male heirs or making moves on her young nieces.

The eldest, Bellatrix, is Orion's own goddaughter, a fierce girl with hell-fire in her eyes. Everyone in the family knows she is touched by the Black Fire, a strain of madness born of and named for the Black family's sacred gift, the more powerful she grew the more unstable she would become. Eventually, when she grows too strong, she will go mad and the House will be bound by honor and duty to execute her. Unless, that is, a Witch or Wizard chooses to become her anchor, a person spiritually and magically bound to her to tether her mind and soul together. The problem is that the last several Wix to try and Anchor to a Black have either died as a result or committed suicide due to the magical feedback they had received from the Black they were Anchored to. Orion is resolute in saving his goddaughter, no matter the cost, and has spent a great deal of time and money searching for a suitable match in hopes of stabilizing her.

Aunt Cassiopeia had taken to Andromeda, the Middle sister, at birth. Andromeda had been born with the same beauty mark as her, a fact she claimed meant the girl was to be taught the family secrets by her personally, and ultimately and inadvertently gifted her with her first name. Andromeda, in turn, is a quiet girl who's intelligent eyes take in the world around her, little happens that Andromeda does not know about or sometimes even have a hand in. Sirius likes her best as well, as she often aids him in his little mischiefs. Aunt Cassiopeia is the family's Priestess, a position revered and respected within the family, and Andromeda often acts as her aide and assistant. Where Arcturus has Familial Power as The Head, and Orion has Political Power as The Lord, Cassiopeia had Religious Power as The Priestess of their House. She was charged with ensuring the Blacks were always on the good side of their gods, A nearly impossible task, and performed the many rites and rituals inherent to their Faith.

Narcissa, the youngest and a Rosier in looks if not temperament, has always been Walburga's favorite. The girl has impeccable manners and knows how to comport herself. For all intents and purposes she is a Perfect Pureblood Princess. She also happens to know how to use such skills and appearances to get away with just about anything. Walburga enjoys secreting her way and teaching her little magics that 'young ladies of good breeding' shouldn't know and how to do some truly death defying flying tricks on some of her own old competition brooms.

In truth Walburga sees a bit of herself in each of her nieces and is determined to see them flourish where she has been ground down. Her brother and sister-in-law are only too happy for her and Orion's backing, especially against Arcturus's schemes and machinations .

Orion is already on his feet, eyes blazing, fury etched across his face. He makes to head for the door before Walburga's firm grip stops him cold. He turns to face his wife.

"Are you going to go and bludgeon the boy with your bare hands?"

Despite her words dripping with sweet poison that speaks of just how foolish she finds the idea, the look on his face implies he just might. "We had Kreacher lock our wands away to ensure we made no rash decisions. I will not have you make a fool of us so early in the day. Besides, there is still more Sirius needs to tell us that we need to know."

Unhappily, Orion returns to his seat, grabs his cup and tosses back the entirety of his remaining tea. The action earns him a raised brow and slightly pinched look from his wife. The after-affects of burning through as much calming draught as they are, are a nuisance at best but there is a possibility of developing an immunity that will only serve to cause further problems down the road.

"Alright Brightness, what happened next?"

"I got so angry I ran out the door, I just couldn't be there anymore. I kept going until I felt a tingle like I had gone through a barrier. I realized I was in the muggle world 'cause it looked like the muggle streets out front, but really shabby and old. I felt Home, or at least I thought I did, so I started going toward it. Only I felt like I was being watched, but couldn't find anything when I looked around. I got scared and started running again. Then I bumped into the Grangers, that's who that girl and her father are-

-Wait!" Sirius yelped.

 _"Is Mister Granger going to be okay? He got really hurt trying to save me! I don't want him to die! You healed him yesterday, right? I know he's just a muggle but He-_ " Sirius's magic was starting to fully burn through the potion in his system and he was slowly growing more upset.

"Sirius!" His Father rose from his own chair and crossed to his son, going so far as to kneel beside him and take his hands into his own, offering some small comfort despite the difficulty kneeling was causing him. Even with the liberal amounts of his medicinal potion he had used, both that morning and the night before, he can still feel the distinct grind of his knee protesting his new position. He knows from the diagnostic charm he had cast earlier that his escapades and overexertion the previous day had further reduced his mobility, permanently. Orion would honestly admit, if only to himself and his closest family, that he would have readily lost the entire limb if it meant his son would never be subject to Davon Krane's depravity or be forced to witness the murder of another human being at such a young age.

"Mister Granger will be alright, I healed him well enough before we left that he will be just fine with time and rest. And he may be a muggle but he saved you. And Blacks don't forget debts like that, everything will be alright. Now what happened after you met the Grangers?"

"I Introduced myself and they did the same, the girl was odd and had an odd name -I don't really remember it-, she called me pretty and asked if I was a Fae!" Sirius's proclamation a fierce pout accompanies his proclamation. Orion and Walburga do their best to stifle their laughter at his words and his father returns to his seat, not wanting to stay on the floor to long only to find he couldn't get back up again.

It is not the first time Sirius has been called pretty, much to the young child's chagrin. And while normally it would be considered an insult to compare a human and a Fae (going both ways), the older Blacks are at least somewhat aware of the modern muggle era's romanization of the Fair Folk, often considering them nothing more than pretty cherubic tricksters found in bedtime stories.

Either Muggles had lost a great deal of their collective self-preservation instinct or some members of the Gentry were running the best PR campaign in modern history. How half the muggleborns and half-bloods they'd gone to school with hadn't been Taken was down to Hogwarts ancient wards and sheer dumb luck.

"Mr. Granger said I could stay with them while I waited for you to arrive Father. We were playing hide and seek when the other man grabbed me. He picked me up and was about to hit me when Mr. Granger slammed into him, knocking him down and freeing me. Mr. Granger told us to run, but his daughter wouldn't move, and I couldn't just leave her. They started to fight, but the other man was stronger and started to beat him up really bad. He even pulled a knife when Mr. Granger grabbed him and pulled him down again when he tried to come at me and the girl. He tried to stab Mr. Granger in the heart, but I… I stopped him with magic'. Sirius says, growing quiet towards the end.

"You stopped him with magic?" Walburga asks.

"Yes, I-I didn't want him to hurt Mr. Granger anymore so I yelled at him to stop and through out my arms and pushed out as much magic as I could at him. When it hit him he flew back and he didn't get back up."

Walburga turns to her husband, question burning in her eyes.

Understanding his wife's unspoken desire Orion confirms his son's actions.

"As far as I can tell it might have technically been accidental magic, but he essentially hit the fucker with a stupify. It wouldn't have gotten him an Outstanding on his NEWTS but it was more than passible."

" After that Father arrived, I'm not sure what all happened after that or what the guy who had attacked us was saying, he spoke weird." From the corner of her eye Walburga sees the relief wash over her husband's face.

"That's all I remember before father got there." Sirius finishes his story, then steels himself for his mother's judgement.

She is the more likely of his parents to show her disappointment, as well as the one who disliked anything and everything to do with Muggles.

Orion, for all that he was the Lord of a known anti-muggle family, was more ambivalent and neutral about such things, a consequence of having to interact with the many, varied members of the Wizengamot- and using said members to try and subtly avoid his father's old 'companions' by 'getting the _lay of the land_ ' or some other nonsense to avoid the old bastards. Said actions were regularly aided by his Prewett in-laws who despise his father and his cronies almost as much as Orion himself does. Proof that they are far better people than half the other so-called 'Purebloods' Orion is forced to interact with on a regular basis.

"Sirius Orion Black, what you did was unbearably foolish. I am beyond upset with you. You will not be punished because yesterday's events were punishment enough, but this is not going to happen again. do you understand? You got yourself lost in the Muggle world, lost your mantle and broach: the first of which is irreplaceable and the second of which is a powerful family heirloom. 

You have exposed no less than three muggles to magic -something that the DMLE will likely be contacting us about as soon as they can find someone of dull enough wits to sign the inquisition form-, and _you nearly got yourself maimed or worse -killed_. How would that have looked? Did you want to go the way of Sirius the first? Murdered by muggles out in broad daylight, because he had ignored his parent's warnings and wandered off? The Heir ring doesn't register Muggles like it does other magical beings- you'd have been safer against a werewolf! Do You Understand? 

_We Could Have Lost You!_ "

Walburga's tirade, which had started out stern and slow -each part emphasized to better get her point across to her son- had grown furious, then just as quickly, fearful. At some point she has gotten up and started to pace -seeming more like a trapped, feral animal than A Lady- before coming to a stop behind her husband's chair. Placing a steadying hand on her husband's shoulder and gathering herself again, she turns back around now fully facing her son again.

"All of those things aside, I am proud of you." For a split second Orion is grateful for the hand she has placed on - _dug into_ \- his shoulder, because he is sure without it he would have fallen out of his chair. Sirius nearly does. The astounded look on his son's face would be funny if he wasn't 100% sure it mirrored his own.

"For all the wrongs you did, you did many things right. You accepted help when you needed it, you protected a young girl in danger, you used your magic to face down an adversary and likely saved a man's life, and you did all of this when you were alone and scared. Every Black in the last century may have been a Slytherin, but that does not mean we throw out Nobility and Honor and Chivalry just because they are 'Gryffindor traits'. The choice you made, to stand by those who had stood by you, fills me with pride and hope. Hope that someday you will be the Greatest Lord the House of Black has ever had."

Overcome by her words, Sirius sniffles before wiping his face and jutting his chin up, little aristocratic nose in the air, "Thank you, Mother, I'll make you proud".

"Yes well, it's time for you to go get dressed, then you and I will head over to visit your cousins. Unfortunately, Your father has some work to see to today."

At this Sirius hesitates, "Do they-?"

"Know? Your Aunt and Uncle know some but the girls all believe you have been in private lessons with your Father all morning. Very secretive Heir and Lord business, very _Hush Hush._ They know better than to ask you about it. So you won't get any questions from them."

"Okay, Thank you, Mother. Please Excuse me."

"You're Excused."

With that Sirius scampers out the door and up to the nursery to get ready, Kreacher follows behind after returning Orion and Walburga's wands to them. He's too old to be a Nanny Elf but he still likes to ensure that Sirius doesn't dress himself too obscenely.

* * *

As soon as the door is closed and locked a soundproofing charm goes up and Walburga turns her attention to her husband.

"What did that _filthy Muggle say? And how do you know_ "

"What do you mean?" Orion attempt to feign ignorance, though he knows already that it won't work.

"When Sirius said he didn't know what the bastard had said you looked _relieved._ Don't try to deny it. Which means he said something -something you'd rather our son not remember. Which is odd because _you weren't there._ "

Orion sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, his wife is still situated behind him and her nails are starting to really bite into his shoulder blade.

"I was able to use legilimens on the bastard, his name is Davon Krane, and he's a sick fuck who's been terrorizing that part of the city for years. He and my father are cut from the same cloth."

At his words a shock of magic washes over him as is wife's magic clings to and wraps around him. He can practically hear it chanting _mineminemine_. For all that he and Walburga do not love each other in the way many married couples do, they are extremely possessive of each other, and his father has always been a threat to their marriage. And, more recently, their family.

"Krane was going to kill William, then take Hermione, that's the girls name, and Sirius down to 'the docks'. There is apparently some type of sex trafficking ring being run out of an abandoned warehouse down there, it _specializes_ in children. Mostly orphans and run-aways and sometimes the children of people they want to teach a lesson to."

"I see. I suppose you want to do something about it."

The question is rhetorical in the greatest sense. There's no chance Orion isn't going do everything he can to make not just Krane, but everyone involved, pay for their crimes. And Walburga will be happy to follow him, burning and salting the earth as they go.

She may find Muggles distasteful but she, like him, despises those who harm children more.

"Oh, Love, You can take care of the Muggles", His wife sniffs delicately, as haughty as ever, "you know I can't be bothered to deal with such barbarians."

"And here I thought they were starting to grow on you,'' Comes her husbands teasing reply. "What did you say again? _Choosing to stand by those who had stood by you?_ "

"Hush you. Statistically speaking, with how many of them there are, they have to occasionally breed an adequate human being or two. Its just not common. Like Calicos."

"Adequate? Calicos?", Orion snorts ," A man nearly dies to save your son and you call him adequate and compare him to breeding cats?"

Walburga only sniffs daintily again and doesn't reward his comment with a response. Orion suspects she is keeping her more anti-muggle sentiments to herself considering one has just saved their son. It's considered bad form to insult someone who has aided their family. Not to mention Aunt Cassiopeia is of the firm belief that the gods send their aid in mysterious ways. If this happened to be one of those times it was best not to earn their wrath by impugning on the honor of their chosen vassal.

Rounding his chair Walburga leans down and places a chaste kiss on his cheek, an action done in mockery, rather than affection. a common occurrence between them.

"You leave that sweet little shop boy to me," His wife sighs as she leans up and away. A cruelly delighted smile stretches across her face, eyes glint as her words crawl along his spine and leave gooseflesh in their wake. Orion is struck by the urge to kiss her, to taste the poison of her words, her magic, her soul- _dripping, dripping, dripping_ like nectar, _like honey_ , _**like ambrosia**_ from her wicked smile and wickeder heart. It is a _hunger_ he has rarely felt these last few years marked by bitterness and contempt.

Walburga turns and sashays away before he can give in to the urge, looking every bit the apex predator he knows she is. Halfway to the door she looks back over her shoulder, her voice a purr.

" _Oh, and My Lord?_

_**Happy Hunting~**_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that Sirius is very young and sounds a little old but children mimic their parents and you Know the Blacks are Haughty as hell. So I always imagined him well spoken without a full grasp of what he's saying.
> 
> Orion and Walburga are a little mellower, but that's because I see them as being a little better in their youth, but went bad due to all their issues (you'll see why). AKA in the words of Harvey Dent " You either die a hero or You live long enough to see yourself become a villain."
> 
> * Magic can burn through weaker potions, Especially if backed by emotions
> 
> **Orion's nicknames for Sirius are variations of "Bright Star" ('Brightness', 'Burning Star',etc)
> 
> **Walburga's nicknames for him are variations of "Tourcher" ('Scourcher', 'Torch-bearer',etc)
> 
> Neither call him such things in public, they both consider it unseemly and an invasion of their private lives.


	6. A Trip to Gringotts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the most part these chapters are more to introduce you to the characters and see how they interact, rather than add to the greater plot. Less action, more a slice of life (just at a kinda important time).
> 
> WARNING- Arcturus Black is essentially The Mad King. His 'scene' is sectioned off by line breaks.

_Same Day, Just after Walburga and Sirius have left_

Orion adjourns to his study after the meeting in the parlour to get started on his plans to deal with the Muggle Davon Krane and his _associates_ down at the warehouse. His first action is to document as many of the dealings and goings-on as he can recall from his foray into the despicable man's mind. Orion may not be able to take any direct action just yet, but that doesn't mean that someone _else_ can't.

Yes, it may take a while -and more than a little cunning- and a good amount of gold to grease the right wheels, but Orion knows he will get his vengeance.

Not a half hour after Walburga had left there came a tapping at the Orion's window. A harried owl wearing a small Ministry of Magic vest, a styled MoM emblazoned on the front, is valiantly attempting to get his attention. A rather impressive feat as the windows of his study are magically enhanced to reduce any noise filtering in from the outside, and block any going out.

Kreacher answers the window and removes the missive attached to the owls leg. The Blacks do not allow unknown animals into their home, especially not owls- which are not uncommon familiars. The idea of letting another witch or wizard's bonded animal into his study of all places unsettles Orion no small amount. This room is filled with the greatest weapon another person could have against his House: their knowledge and secrets.

Luckily Kreacher's House Elf magic blocks the beast from entering the room. As an added bonus Kreacher's age, being nearly 200, makes him immune to all 'influencing' magic, short of an imperious or blood magic, that could be used to try and _persuade_ or _enchant_ the person who had taken the letter from the owl.

Kreacher sends the bird off with a small treat for its work, though the thing seems more than a little annoyed at being banned from entering. Though Orion doubts he'd find Hermes an agreeable companion. Inspecting and sniffing the letter and finding it untampered with Kreacher hands it over to Orion, who, with a quick flick of his letter opener breaks the seal.

**To The Venerable Lord of The Most Noble And Ancient House of Black;**

**Lord Orion Arcturus Black _MMM_**

**Lord Black,**

**This letter has been sent as a Request of Inquisition. Yesterday Aurors were alerted to several spikes of unauthorized magic in the Greater London area. Upon further investigation your magical signature was found at the scene (comparison record: _Dueling Championship 1953, Prague_ ), as well as another carrying Black family markings.**

**The Auror Office requests your presence to better understand the situation at hand.**

**I would be grateful to speak with you at your convenience, Best Regards,**

**_Junior Auror Anderson Davies_ **

_Well wasn't that just as prettily worded as could be,_ Orion smirked to himself. It was obvious that Davies had drawn the short straw and been forced to send the missive. Orion would have felt bad for the man if he weren't already in a foul mood for the day. Dealing with the Auror Office would only make things worse.

Or maybe better? Orion's quite sure that if he can make even _one_ of the Junior Aurors cry today he'll be in much better spirits.

"Would Master Orion like Kreacher to gather the stationary for a reply and ready Hermes?" Orion considers before coming to a better - _more fun for him_ \- decision.

"No need, _Junior Auror Davies_ wishes for me to come at _my_ convenience. So I'll do just that. And he'll be _damn_ _grateful_ for the opportunity."

Orion's mouth twists into a sneer, much like Kreacher's own . Orion is a Lord and a Member of the Wizengamot, a Junior Auror isn't even of a high enough rank to serve him tea. The fact that he was not contacted by a higher ranking Auror means that someone is either trying to insult him, a decision that would likely end their career, or the case is being mishandled be a bunch of green boys, far more likely.

"I'll be taking my leave now. Neither Walburga nor I will be back for Tea, feel free to use the afternoon for your own devices", Orion remarks while filling a brief case with a series of folders and parchments he had only finished drafting minutes ago.

* * *

Orion leaves and locks down his office before heading downstairs. Within minutes he has flooed straight into one of Gringotts's special waiting rooms. These rooms were developed to ensure that patrons seeking uncommon or unorthodox goods or services would not be subject to the prying eyes of the public. In Orion's own case he needs to talk to the Goblin Artifact Loss Office, something that is both humiliating and would start a rash of rumors if anyone were to find out.

Almost immediately upon entering the building the large door across the room opens, it doesn't squeak or groan, but makes a sound Orion can't name, caused by the sheer weight of the door on its hinges. Few people are aware of how inhumanly strong the goblins are, the door likely weighs a ton and is only as thick as Orion's thumb. The Goblin in the doorway is familiar, one that Orion has dealt with many times before. And hopefully, someday, so will his children and their children after.

"Vault Manager Gritgnaw"

"Lord Black"-

Each nods, steps forward, and clasps wrists before bowing over their joined hands, their un-joined hands remain crossed behind their backs, each with their weapon of choice in hand; Orion his wand, Gritgnaw his blade. This is not the common way to greet a goblin, which is normally a firm handshake at best and maybe a bow or curtsy. This is the greeting of the International _Interspecial_ Dueling Syndicate, the brutalist dueling competition in the world. Orion and Gritgnaw had met many years before as duelists in said competition and had become fast friends after Gritgnaw had summarily wiped the floor with Orion's overconfident ass in one of his first All-Out duels. Orion had worked hard to learn how to break through the goblin's sheilds, magical and mundane, and had finally accomplished the feat during their third match. Not that he had won in the end, Gritgnaw had been dueling since Orion had been in diapers. But Gritgnaw had taken a liking to the cunning and tenacious young man and had taken him out for drinks afterwards.

Unfortunately, the drinks had been goblin-brew.

To this day Orion is still unsure of what _exactly_ happened that night. What he does know is that he ended up wearing the dress of one of the other duelists, a Veela named Isabella -she assured him he wore it _quite_ well. Ate something that caused him to burp up incandescent bubbles for two weeks. And Memorized a _90 stanza_ goblin love ballad, - _In GobbledyGook_ ,to the cheers of all the goblins present- which he then sang with such emotion that he accidentally called upon inherent song magic, which led to three bar brawls, a rather quick and messy divorce, and 4 marriages. He has since been asked by multiple of the aforementioned parties to come to their weddings and sing them 'their song' for their first 'dance', a euphemism for the couples first duel as married partners, first against each other and then against their guests. He goes to each and every one, nobody throws a wedding like a goblin. Gritgnaw even had him act as ring bearer in his own wedding. Which in the goblin culture means he had to keep the wedding guests from stealing the rings until the ceremony commenced, an old custom meant to prove that the couple knew how to make strong allies and lasting alliances.

He's pretty sure there's some other stuff, and that Gritgnaw has photographic evidence, but he's never been able to figure it out. Sure, he could try to threaten or bribe the others to tell him what had happened, but Gritgnaw and the other duelists are the closest thing he's ever had to a mentor or friends and he won't ruin that just because he embarrassed himself when he couldn't handle his liquor.

Plus, he's pretty sure they gave Walburga a scrapbook filled with his escapades as a wedding gift, one with a goblin-made bloodlock that he can't get into. If it were truly upsetting he knows his wife would have already done him in rather than live with the embarrassment of being married to him. It helps knowing there's no chance of anyone ever speaking of his involvement outside the walls of Gringotts or the IIDS.

Rising from their bow Gritgnaw addresses the younger man first, "Not that the sight of you is unwelcome, but it is rare for you to come on such short notice, unless you are only gathering coin for your purse." The Goblin's voice is craggy, a common occurrence for a people some believed were born from the mountain itself.

"Unfortunately, I am here with unwelcome news. I need to register an item in the Loss Office", Orion's face smooths over, no longer open to the goblin before him. Orion has more than one reason to hate the office in question, and knows the office hates his family in turn.

"The GALO? Very well I'll lead you, as I know you've never personally been there yourself," Are Gritgnaw's only words before leading Orion out of the room and through the maze of offices and corridors that make up the upper levels of the bank.

 _Unlike your father who has time and again tainted, destroyed, or lost the precious artifacts of my people_ , is left unspoken but still hangs in the air.

Arcturus Black's depravities had been rotting his house from the inside out for years. His actions had cost the family; in the friends and lovers rebuffed rather than dragged into their damned fate, in the futures stolen from their sons and daughters, in the blood of the innocent slaughtered by a madman, in the anger of the gods that would likely rip his House apart. Among his many grievances was the fact that the man regularly 'misplaced' important and powerful goblin relics.

Gritgnaw had been the one to bring it up to him, when their previous account manager had quit, furious from having to deal with Arcturus's actions and blasé attitude, and Gritgnaw had stepped in to take his place. Orion had taken the list of 'missing' items as well as samples of their magical signatures and gone on the hunt, he had been 23 at the time. The first item, a necklace that made sure the wearers voice never gave out, was usually a rather lovely and expensive gift for a wix who liked to sing. He had thought his father may have merely thrown it out when he no longer had a use for it.

He should have known better.

When he finally found the necklace he had emptied his stomach until all that came up was bile.

( ~~bad shit below, skip if you wish)~~

* * *

There, buried in the wall of one of his father's country estates were the remains of what could only be one of his father's mistresses. The mottling on her body evidence she had not died quickly or peacefully, instead half-starved, beaten, and broken. The necklace he had been searching for wrapped around her neck like a noose, her eyes bulging, lips blue and mouth gasping, hand forever scrambling at her throat. She looked vaguely familiar, and the corpse was so fresh it couldn't have been more than a day old. Once Orion had gathered himself enough to look again he realized there was an envelope resting beside her, addressed _My Dearest Anna._

What was written inside was a love letter to his father's sickest desires and most twisted fantasies. _Anna_ had been a young widow whose brother-in-law had seen fit to sell her out to Arcturus for some backing in a matter before the wizengamot. Not that she had known. Arcturus and her Good Brother had decided to play a game with her. Arcturus would play the doting suitor in private, with her Brother-in-law quietly encouraging her to take his offer, it was not uncommon for widows to take up being mistresses, especially ones as young as her. When the time came Anna had been confined to this very country house. At first she had been happy, treated like a lady and doted upon. Arcturus had seemed to love her singing and had even gotten her a lovely goblin-made necklace, so that her voice would never fail her.

Then things had changed.

Arcturus had become rougher and then cruel. Soon he had started to beat her, but she couldn't escape. She was trapped in the house. When she had tried he had cursed her, she had woken up tied to the bed, Arcturus already inside her, _defiling_ her.

 _You cried and begged and screamed, My Dearest Anna,_ the note had read, _it was then that I realized Your Screams were more music to my ears than any pretty song that had ever fallen from your lovely lips._

In the end Arcturus had kept her tied to the bed, torturing her day and night, feeding her nothing ' _but my cock and seed'_ until she had grown so weak that she could no longer scream. At which point Arcturus had strangled her with the necklace and cast a preservation charm on her body, ' _to keep her lovely_ ', before stuffing her into a wall and resealing it. The letter was dated.

She had been in the wall for 10 years.

It was then that Orion had recognized her _Anna Fawley_ , her daughter, Maria, had been a few years below him at Hogwarts. Maria had claimed her mother had gone _looking for herself_ after her husband's death and never returned. She'd been raised by her grandparents instead.

Every other artifact he had found to date had been on the bodies of progressively more mutilated women.

* * *

Orion crushes down those thoughts as they near what is clearly the Loss office, he's fairly sure the receptionist is giving him the stick-eye.

"Gritgnaw and Lord Orion Black to report the loss of a goblin-made artifact."

"Is That _SO_?" comes the other goblin's reply. Oh, yes, this one has definitely dealt with his father before.

"Very well, you may enter"

There is no real waiting done when one reports a goblin-made item missing. It is very important to have the item returned to either its rightful 'borrower' or creator as soon as possible.

Goblin forging magic is unique from that of any other magic. Every goblin-forged item ever made is infused with a piece of magic from the goblin or goblins who crafted it, it is an extension of its creator/s, they are connected in the deepest of ways. All goblin-forged items are passed down hereditarily because the descendants of the goblin who forges an item are the only ones who can keep it from destabilizing, and the only ones who can revitalize it. If a goblin's creation is kept away too long it will start to drain them, If it isn't returned before their death the drain will affect their closest descendant .

To counteract this issue goblins 'lease out' their creations- they _do not_ sell them. Being of fae descent goblin magic is affected by a binding contract, leases are a way to allow them to temporarily give out their creations without the possibility of suffering from the damage of a large magical drain. This is also why the older families kept their goblin-made items in Gringotts when not in regular use, it satisfies the craft-creator bond and lowers the chances of the item losing its powers or enchantments.

Unfortunately, the actions of Orion's father, torturing and murdering young witches before burying them with their goblin-made gifts, has tainted or damaged every single item he has been able to return. Each one has had to be destroyed, rather than allow the bond to begin to rot and destroy the goblin who has made or inherited it. The act of destroying a goblins creation is tantamount to heresy and the greatest betrayal a goblin can know.

For these reasons the House of Black has been banned from acquiring any new leases.

Orion, wanting to head off as much potential damage as possible, had allowed any goblin to renegade on their existing lease and reclaim their creations from his family vault. Most of the objects and weapons stayed but very little of the jewelry, outside of the ones his father couldn't touch, remains. What does remain are the works of several very vengeful goblins who have layered monitoring magic and curses into the jewelry they've crafted. Anytime his father attempts to harm or assault his mistresses he will find himself on the receiving end of some rather imaginative goblin curses. Orion is also notified by Gringotts and does his best to secret away the witch in question.

Orion and Gritgnaw are quickly brought into the office of an older, stern looking, female goblin.

You could always tell the females from the males, they are far more vicious.

"Another Goblin-made item has been lost by the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black I see. What is it this time? A sapphire necklace? Opal Earrings? Golden Anklet?"

"A Golden Brooch with Black Diamonds and Tanzanite", Orion braces himself for the next part.

"I have no record of such an item amongst your family vault,'' The Female goblin says, rifling through a stack of papers that are no doubt the entirety of his family's remaining leases.

"No, you wouldn't, it would be filed under the Heir's Treasures"

Gritgnaw and She-goblin's necks crack -they snap their heads up so fast to face him. Treasures are some of the oldest and most powerful goblin-made items in existence. Losing one is like losing a world wonder. Some items are so old that hundreds of goblins can feel its call in their blood.

" _How?"_ the word seems to come from both goblins at the same time.

"There was an incident", Gritgnaw snorts, it is a rather large understatement, "My son was attacked after removing the brooch and left it behind." Short and simple without giving much away, he may trust Gritgnaw but he doesn't know the other goblin.

The She-goblin goes over to a shelf containing 28 large tombs and grabs one bound in black dragonhide with faded silver and gold inscriptions. _Ye_ _Blacke Familie Ledgerr._ The book that contains the lease and acquisition forms of every piece of the _Black Treasure._ It is around five inches thick.

The Black Treasure is the name given to every piece of jewelry and adornment that has been leased to his family in perpetuity. True, they have to renew the leases, and most of the Treasure remains in the vault at all times, but these items are sacred to the House of Black. The few outside the vault include His and His wife's wedding rings, his lordship ring, Sirius's heir ring, and Cassiopeia's priestess adornments, each one a vital and important relic. Each imbued with nearly a thousand years of magic.

As she reaches the desk Orion can hear her muttering darkly to herself in GobbledyGook. Though he only knows the meanings of the words from the ballad he has memorized, he can vaguely make out the words _fucker, love, blade, eviscerate_.

Goblin love is very intense. Walburga finds it _obscenely_ romantic.

She slams the book open and begins to flip through the pages eventually settling on one. Her face grows incredulous as she reads farther down the page

"The brooch in question contains a siphoning feature, to allow the wearer's magic to strengthen the creator bond and extend the leases viability. The contract will become inactive when the brooch has left the presence of a Black. -We cannot label an item lost if it's contract is still active."

At this Orion raises an eyebrow, he is very aware of the requirements to label an item lost.

"The contract is still active."

"How? The brooch was lost in a muggle park, likely picked up by some passing muggle vagrant. It hasn't been in the presence of Black magic in over 18 hours."

"It says here that the brooch is in the possession of someone with a 100% Black magic signature."

"That's impossible! _I_ don't even have 100% Black magic, and that's _with_ the Lordship rites!"

"With that I cannot help you. We will monitor the contract and should there be any changes we will contact you. For the time being we will be happy to assist you in selecting another brooch from your Treasure."

Orion huffs, there's a good chance the missing brooch could end up causing him trouble down the road.

But he also doesn't want to dig through the trunks of trinkets locked in his family vault.

"Blue, Dark Blue. It's Sirius's favorite color." The she-goblin starts flipping pages again.

"There appears to be a brooch made of silver, coated in sapphires ranging from normal to near-black in color and with seven onyx chips forming a seven pointed star."

"Perfect"

"Lovely, I will have a runner fetch it for you and deliver it to you downstairs. Now please do me the great pleasure of leaving my office and **never returning**."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goblin Facts:
> 
> Goblins are a warrior species known for their bloodlust- Orion gets along with them swimmingly.
> 
> Goblins do not give out their names to strangers, the bank tellers use pen-names.
> 
> Goblins have a pathological need to craft, however they cannot stand to have them go unused. Quite literally, unused crafts are large magical drains. Thus why they do business with wix.
> 
> (Little bit on house elves:
> 
> House elves count their years based on the closest equinox or solstice, Kreacher had turned 197 just that summer solstice, at 200 he will be considered an Elder, a position of great acclaim.
> 
> Kreacher is sensitive enough to magic that he can discern between a spell, enchantment, bewitchment, and the natural ambient magics of a wix. So he can tell if the letter has had any magic used on it or if it just has traces of leftover magic from the person who wrote it.
> 
> House elves do have down time which they use to develop other skills, sort of like how people have hobbies. This is paramount because they trade goods and services between each other, they do not like currency.)


	7. Law And Auror

Orion soon finds himself standing in the waiting area outside of Gritgnaw's office as a young, sharp-toothed goblin hands him an enchanted velvet bag burnished with his family's insignia before scampering off. The weight of his son's new broach heavy in his pocket.

"We will meet again soon Orion Black, we have much to discuss", Gritgnaw's whisper brokers no argument.

"Yes, we do. I think, perhaps, that an outside opinion may be exactly what I need." Orion replies, still a little dazed from recent revelations. Its a fluke, it HAS to be.

"I must be going, there are other matters I must attend to."

"May your luck be golden, my friend," It is a traditional goblin blessing, one not generally wished upon wizards. Orion can count the number of times Gritgnaw has said it to him on one hand.

"And May liquid rubies coat your blade," Orion says, returning his friends blessing. Gritgnaw only smiles blandly, a weariness in his eyes, then returns to his offices. Orion slips out into the bank's lobby amongst the throngs of customers and out into Diagon Alley.

He makes his way to Twilfitt and Tattings. A Wizarding-Attire shop filled with clothes and cloths of a thousand colors and designs. Some remain under lock and key, kept for members of certain families and not to be used by other customers under any circumstances. None of these fabrics are what he has come for. What Orion desires is stored in an anti-magic room at the far back of the store, inaccessible by all but the current Twilfitt or Tatting in charge.

He stops at a small counter in the corner away from the main area and cashier working up front -obscured from the sight of any other patrons. A middle-aged witch with rounded features and shrewd eyes seems to materialize out of the towering maze of fabric running along the back wall.

"Lord Black, how may we here at Twilfitt and Tattings be of assistance to you today?" The witch says, dipping slightly into a half curtsy.

Madame Tatting (the 5th) is the personal seamstress of several members of the Black family. And one of the few people who knows how to deal with them. She often works with Walburga, including creating the continuous 'rebirths' of his wife's favorite dress, and has been given visitor's access to several of the Black family residences.

Orion throws up a complex notice-me-not spell before answering. The entire building is warded, with the best wards money can buy, to ensure there is no spying or eavesdropping, but one can never be too careful.

"I am in need of a full bolt of raw silk."

To her credit the witch's face doesn't so much as twitch from its polite smile, though they both know there's only one reason Orion could be in need of raw silk today, after all none of the Black witches have recently been fitted for maternity wear and no infant gowns have been purchased.

"We are happy to oblige. I will personally deliver it to your place of choice."

Bless this witch for knowing his House's needs so well.

"To Cygnus's manor, if you would. Walburga will be waiting"

Walburga will want to replace Sirius's lost mantle, if it's truly been lost, as soon as possible, a process that will take several weeks as the damn thing has to be hand crafted and imbued with the magic of several family witches.

It won't do to have people know that the original has been misplaced, so a secondary needs to be made as soon as possible.

Cloaks are considered important in their society. The color, trim, design, and material all denote ones House, Status, Wealth, and Allegiances. Offering someone your cloak can be considered an insult or an honor. It can mean offering someone your protection, personal or House. Or Initiate a courtship. Even start a feud (and no small amount of petty wars have been started this way). The only truly neutral cloaks and robes were those worn as overcoats or as a uniform. Even Auror cloaks and robes came in a variety of cuts and trims, though the colors and materials had to be to standard.

A Mantle is a cloak crafted for a child's first name day and is meant to stay with them into adulthood, growing alongside them. They are more than just fabric, it's a swath of magic made of family and power and trust deeper than one could truly describe. The very essence of it is Home, an undeniable link to ones family and heritage. The Mantles, which have been imbued with the magic of several family members (generally witches, who guarded the secrets to crafting mantles jealousy), could never truly be replaced as the first mantle was always the most powerful. Any others made never seemed to fit as seamlessly as the first, either, for they had not grown with the child -had not intertwined with their core from their infancy.

And one could not _not_ have a mantle.

The appearance of the mantle itself reflects the magic of the child it is made for, mantles are known to drastically change when a wix's magic goes through an upheaval. Colors can brighten and darken with fierce emotions or mental instability. Puberty and sexual awakening each sent cloaks into a kaleidoscope of colors, one of the reasons they could not be worn to classes at Hogwarts, as it posed a great distraction for the other students and rampant gossip in the hallways. Colors and shapes swirl in and out of existence on a pregnant witches mantle, an indication of the inherent magic of the child growing inside of them. Low birth rates and high levels of miscarriage and squibbing had led to too many witches having dark bands around their waists. People born soul bound will find their destiny written in the colors and designs on their cloaks.

The only time a wix _gave away_ their mantle was in marriage.

When a wix chooses to marry they clothe their betrothed in their mantle at the altar, each person claiming the other; offering their protection, love, and magic to their beloved. The Exchange of Mantles is a time honored tradition and one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking to witness. If the family magic in the mantles acknowledged the bonds of the wix getting married then the mantles would evolve into fine wedding capes, twisting and combining the magics of the couple in a gorgeous display of magical craftsmanship.

More than once a witch or wizard who had lost much of their family would be brought to tears when their mantle, now resting on their beloved's shoulders, would flare with the magic of their lost loved ones, seemingly approving from beyond the grave, before flowing into a gorgeous wedding cape. A phenomenon known as a Departed Blessing.

In equal measure, a mantle that rejected a union was a hard thing to watch and often harder to experience. The mantle would grow dull if it merely rejected the marriage, the family magics finding the match unacceptable.

The average arranged marriage was 'accepted', though often not enthusiastically, usually with lovely but impersonal capes being created.

If, though, the marriage was forced or coerced, the mantle had been known to magic itself into an impromptu noose and end the magical binding early itself. Who died depended on the situation, usually the coercing wix, but sometimes the victim would use their own deaths to power spells and rituals to protect their family and friends. Or exact horrendous revenge. Suicide at the alter was a very powerful and lasting magic, entire lines and Houses had been snuffed out using it.

Eventually, once the excitement of the marriage wore down, the mantle would return to a more acceptable size and appearance. Maintaining a lovely, but more practical, design for the remainder of most wixes lives. Upon a wixes death the mantle would become their death shroud, many wix were buried or burned in their mantles.

Sirius's mantle being gone is a great hindrance and Orion knows he will have to begin a search for it as soon as possible. It could be ransomed, used as blackmail, or used in a ritual to harm his son. All discretion is necessary or unsavory people will hunt it down before it can be retrieved.

Luckily, Twilfitt & Tattings is known for discretion and not asking questions. So no one will know that Orion has ordered so much raw silk, a material exclusively used for making mantles. The same cannot be said for the other tailors, seamstresses, and clothiers of the UK. Bunch of gossips the lot of them.

Orion hopes he will be able to recover his son's lost mantle and just end up footing the bill for a large quantity of unused silk. At worst the mantle may fall into the wrong hands. Most likely, though, the mantle is lost or destroyed and a new one will have to be made in its place.

Paying Madame Tatting, and tipping well, Orion heads back out into the Alley and towards an apparition point.

With some of his work done, it's time to play.

It's time to visit the Auror Office.

* * *

One moment Orion is standing in an alcove off of Diagon Alley, the next he is standing in the richly furnished space of his Wizengmot office. The room is done in rich purples and silver-grey, the leftovers of one of Walburga's fits of pique. Her mother Irma, damn the witch, had insulted her daughter's choices in interior design and Walburga had chosen to redecorate every single property they had between them in turn. Except for Grimmauld Place, which had only gotten a few adjustments to better fit their collective tastes.

As a Lord and Member of the Wizengamot Orion has direct access to his 'personal rooms' within the Ministry of Magic, which allows him to apparate directly into the building without having to use one of the more mundane entrances and thus lessening the chances of him being seen or disturbed when he doesn't want to be.

It also happens to make for a good scare tactic, as very few people expect danger from above. Usually its the Department of Mysteries you have to watch out for.

Almost all levels of the ministry are below the Wizengamot offices, which reside on floor six. Only the Minister and under-secretaries permanently reside above on floor eight, seven is used as a series of meeting rooms for the Heads and other higher-ups, as well as areas for entertaining foreign dignitaries. A measure to ensure there are no international incidents.

Orion takes his time warding and locking up the case he has brought with him from home, his House's business is none of the Ministry's after all, before further warding his office as he leaves. More to keep out the more busybody Lords and Ladys than anything else.

He strolls leisurely to the elevators, greeting the other Wizengamot members and their secretaries along the way, politeness is paramount in his profession. He may be annoyed with this 'appointment', but there is no need to let the others know. It would be a sign of weakness in these halls. This lot can smell blood in the water, like a school of piranha.

When the elevator arrives, and the passengers inside realize he intends to board, it clears out immediately, giving Orion the elevator to himself. The only remaining person is the elevator operator, who refuses to meet Orion's eye in the mirrored walls as he boards and grasps onto one of the handles dangling from the ceiling, his cane bracing him on his other side.

"Wh-where to?"

"The Auror office, I have a standing invitation." Orion replies with cheer, his bad mood at being summoned, by a lowly Junior Auror no less, has come full circle. Add in a splash of the madness inherent in all Blacks and Orion is ready to play.

Less than a minute later, after a short descent and a sharp shifting to the right, they come to a stop and the elevator dings.

"Level Three, Wing Six: Auror offices, _Sir_ ", The last word comes out strangled as the wizard finally looks up at Orion. The Lord Black appears to be smiling, it's just the barest upturn of the lips but it was a sight rarely seen at the Ministry, and never wanted.

As the elevator doors open the sounds of the Auror Office rushes in; paper on paper, officers chatting -perhaps even processing a low level miscreant or two, even a whistling tea kettle from the small kitchen area off the main room, the saving grace of the graveyard shift workers.

Orion takes his first step out of the elevator and allows his tightly wrapped magic out to play.

Everything goes silent as a wave of malevolent magic sweeps down the hall and into the offices, the only sounds left Orion's own sedate gate and the quiet cursing of the elevator operator as the elevator crackles and shuts down, unable to handle the surge of magic. He scrambles to lock the doors as Orion makes his way down the hall.

Good he doesn't want people coming and going too easily.

The sight that greets Orion upon his entrance into the Pit* warms the cold, embittered cockles of his heart. Each Auror has frozen and is staring up at him, fear scattering the weaker ones to various side rooms. Several others appear to be fighting the urge to flee or go for their wands. One or two look on the edge of fainting.

Neither he nor his magic have ever been very amicable, and these people know it.

A hag being booked only looks on in mild interest a slight smile on her aged face, they are not called Bloodlust Seers for nothing. Orion idly wonders what he would have to do to make the hag laugh, something awful, surely. The idea amuses him.

"I'm looking for a Junior Auror, Anderson Davies, he was so kind as to invite me here today."

Nearly the entirety of the office turns in unison to eye a young man in basic green robes Orion can only presume is Davies. A few of the smarter and more paranoid ones keep their eyes fully trained on Orion's profile, unwilling to show their backs, earning them some grudging approval. One young man in particular catches his attention, a tall Black wizard with Shafiq-style robes on, though still the green of a Junior Auror, and sea-green eyes who looks vaguely familiar. He holds himself loose and ready to fight and has maneuvered himself so he can't be backed into a corner easily. He's also wrapped his magic around himself to act as a buffer against Orion's own, something that takes great control, especially for a rookie. Noticing Orion's attention on him he offers a small nod of acknowledgement and a slight smile, a faint humor in his eyes. He seems to be slightly amused by the unfolding events.

Movement catches Orion's eye and he looks back to find that Davies has finally regained the strength to rise, though the slight sheen on his skin makes him think the other man has broken out into a cold sweat.

"O-of course, If you would just follow me." The young man says and gestures towards the hall leading to the Pen*.

Several people in the room stiffen and stare at Davies incredulously, including the young Shafiq who immediately returns his stare to Orion a moment later. He no longer seems amused, his demeanor cagey. While what Davies has said isn't rude to say to the average person, it _is_ an insult to someone of Orion's status.

He should have been greeted by an actual Auror, at least. He should have been thanked for taking the time to come to this charade. And He was never to be requested to _follow_ anyone not his equal, let alone a _trainee_.

The man must have used an auto-correcting dictation quill to write this mornings missive because this idiot clearly had no sense of protocol or self-preservation.

"Of course," He parrots back, mocking the other man, though there is no mockery in his voice. One should never give oneself away; especially to prey.

Orion only smiles that little smile and goes along, the thunk-thunk-thunk of his cane on the hardwood floor reminiscent of nails being driven into a coffin.

He hears a mumbled curse in a deep bass voice and catches sight of the Shafiq wizard making a break for the exit in his peripheral.

* * *

As Orion enters the room the other man has led him to he realizes that Anderson Davies is a moron.

They are in one of the Interrogation rooms.

"Please have a seat", Davies gestures to the sparse solid oak chair across the table from his already seated form.

Orion pulls his wand and Davies flinches immediately, almost falling out of his chair in order to grab his own. Before the other wizard can speak Orion gestures to the other chair.

"May I? These old injuries of mine have been catching up to me these days." Orion leans a little more heavily on his cane, anything more subtle and he doubts the idiot before him would even notice the implication that he is 'growing old and feeble'.

"Yes, Yes, please by all means make yourself comfortable." The other man acquiesces easily, hurrying to put his wand down on the table. Usually a tactic used to make the Auror in question appear more in charge or in control of the situation. Instead, he only reminds Orion of a child in his first transfiguration lesson, nervous and fumbling.

A flick and swirl of his wrist accompanied by a quiet incantation turns Orion's wooden chair into a wingback made of dark leather with firm but comfortable cushioning. Pure envy slides across the Auror's face as he sees Orion's skill and magic at work. Or perhaps it's merely his choice in seating.

In truth the only reason Orion had modified the chair, he had sat in much worse when being trained to be a 'proper heir', is that the interrogation room chairs have built in restraints which are nullified by transfiguration. Having access to the Auror budget has its perks.

"Thank you for coming in on such short notice," Davies starts out the interview "though an owl ahead would not have been remiss."

"Yes, of course, terribly sorry for that. It's been a hectic morning, you see. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"No trouble. Can I get you any refreshments? Tea, Pumpkin juice, snacks?"

Not likely Orion thinks.

"That's not necessary. I would like to wrap this up quickly, I would like to be home in time for tea." A small lie since Orion still has one more stop to make before he gets home, he'll be lucky to make supper tonight.

"Oh! Yes, let's get started then. Just a few questions and we'll be good to go. Yesterday, Aurors arrived at a scene in a muggle park to two men being taken to a muggle hospital. Each of them registered positive for magical exposure, as well as the surrounding area. Upon further investigation we were able to discern one magical signature registered as your own and a second signature registered as being from the Black Family. Can you tell me why a pair of heavily injured muggle men had your magical signature on them?"

"I found them injured and as for the magic," Orion pauses slightly for dramatic effect, "Why, I healed them of course."

"W-Wh?" Davies sputters, shock writ across his face.

"Not a great deal mind you, just enough to keep them from dying. And they were both out cold, so neither will remember. I believe such actions are protected under the Emergency Aid Acts that were passed in the 1910's."

"I-, bu- Yes, uh, they are."

"Good, now then. I was unaware I had earned a magical signature file here in the DMLE. Especially one so far back as the Prague competition."

"Not here, but sports has it on record."

"Oh?" Orion's eyes start to dance and he can feel the pressure building up under his skin.

"Yes, we were able to match it with them. Though the other signature we could only verify was a Black using the Familial Magic Records."

"Funny, I was under the belief that all personal athlete files within the Department of Games and Sports were under legal and magical protection due to the fact that they fall under MMHA."

Davies stiffens.

"May I see the warrant?"

"The warrant?"

"Yes, the one you used to gain access to my file." Orion knows he doesn't have one, because he would have had to go to a Higher ranked Auror to even get authorization to petition for one. And said Auror would not have let him lead this case.

Davies appears to have broken out into a full on sweat now.

"I-"

"You do have one don't you? Because it's a crime to touch those files otherwise. In fact they're so heavily protected that it shouldn't be possible for you to get to them, unless you used unlawful magics."

"Now see here! Your magic was all over the crime scene!" The other man stood up, defiant. Orion was surprised he could stand, but then again stupidity was often mistaken for bravery.

"Are you to tell me that you have the audacity to sit here and cast thinly veiled accusations against my Character and Insinuate that I have Attacked two muggle men and yet you have stolen my medical and magical records in an attempt to catch me in some make-believe crime?" Orion had risen, slow and sure as thunder, murder written on his face. He towered over Davies, who flinched back at his proximity and fell into his chair

_KnockKnockKnock_

Orion's game of mouse is interrupted by a familiar bespectacled Auror sticking his messy head in the door.

"Lord Black! I heard you were in the office somewhere and knew I had to come see you! It's been too long!" The Older Auror's face is stretched into a lopsided grin, his eyes sparking with a mischief Orion has known for many years, lopsided glasses making a valiant attempt to fall from his face. He is completely unmoved by the look on Orion's face.

Davies, for one, looks desperately relieved at the intrusion.

"Davies! You wouldn't mind terribly if I commandeered Lord Black from you, would you? We haven't seen each other in ages."

"B-but sir, we're in the middle of an interview, and-", Orion never hears the rest as the younger auror is cut off. For the best really.

"Interview? Well that's no matter. I'll take the case off your hands, why don't you head on out. I heard some of the other boys saying they were going out for some pints. You wouldn't want to miss out." The older auror smiles at the younger man genially, though Orion can see the ice in his hazel eyes.

"Thank you sir, that's very kind. I think I'll take you up on that offer." The younger auror says, sweeping the paperwork into a haphazard stack, before scurrying out the door.

"Good, Good. Lord Black! Why don't you and I head on up to my office, finish this interview and have some refreshments and catch up?" The man at the door says, though they both know it's more a show for nearby eavesdroppers than anything else.

Orion sidles up to the other man as they make their way down the familiar trek to the Auror's office.

"Nice magical shockwave by the way, pretty sure some of the greenboys pissed themselves." Comments the other man, a wry grin stretching his face.

"You know how I like to play with my food." Orion replies, warring between annoyance at his fun being cut short and amusement at his companions antics. The man has always been mischievous at heart.

"Oh yes, ever since you were young. I do remember that now."

"Now, now. There's no need to get nasty _Uncle_ , bringing up boyhood mischiefs. Especially since it was you that gave me half my ideas anyway."

"Don't call me that." The Auror grumbles, "And I helped get you out of trouble a number of times, as well, if I remember correctly."

"I'm sure you do, your mind has always hoarded knowledge like a dragon does treasure." The other man snorts at the analogy, a common one made by those who know him well. Those that don't often believe the man dotty and jovial. A fool's mistake.

They stop before the Auror's office door, the man undoing a plethora of wards and enchantments, Orion respectfully turns away and doesn't pay attention. To do otherwise would be an insult to their familial alliance.

Orion's eyes pass along the hall, observing the changes that have occurred since his last visit, and catch a glint of gold, a name plaque set into the wall.

He coughs into a fist to stifle his laughter.

Advanced Auror

_Lord_ Charlus Potter, DMM

The Lord has clearly been magically carved into the plaque, in Darling Aunt Dorea's handwriting no less.

"I see they finally got around to fixing your title." He says, voice tinted with good humor, as the wards finally slip away and the door slides open.

Charlus only shoots him a look of exasperation, before his own eyes slide to the plaque in question, a fond smile barely touching his lips.

Charlus moves aside and allows him into his office, closing and locking the door behind them. He rounds his desk, offering Orion a seat in one of his guest chairs, before seating himself.

"I could have sworn there was a meeting you were supposed to be attending right now? Dear cousin Bartemius will be quite cross with you for missed." Orion says, knowing full well his uncle in-law/cousin had been in said meeting when he arrived. Charlus's magic had definitely been on the floor above the wizengamot offices when he had arrived.

"That brat can stuff it, he's been getting too big for his britches ever since he got that promotion." Charlus grumbles, "And I was called away by an 'issue regarding a time sensitive matter.'"

_MmmHmm_ , Orion hums noncommittally.

"That's a good one, I'll have to remember it for later."

"Can't take the credit, Kings came up with that one."

"Kings?" Orion asks, intrigued.

"Kingsley Shafiq. You've seen him at a few galas and such. You remember there was a huge scandal when his mother, Regina Shacklebolt, who was in line to inherit, was married off to a Shafiq cousin. Now her younger cousins, all 3 brats mind you, are set to inherit everything."

"Yes, I remember her. She was a Ravenclaw prefect when I was in my first year."

"Luckily the boy takes after her, smart and with a good instincts. He certainly knew you were on the prowl." Orion shoots the other man a disgruntled look for the comment. He would admit that he kind of liked Shafiq, he had potential, but he was still irritated about losing his prey.

"Which brings us to what you're doing here. The paperwork said something about an inquisition, which only means that nobody was stupid enough to open an investigation against you, but its still not good."

Orion sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He had hoped to put off tell anyone else what is actually going on until after he had gathered more information.

"Due to the nature of the situation I cannot tell you everything. But yesterday Sirius got lost in the muggle world and was nearly assaulted. Another man fought the assailant and was heavily injured, himself, for it. I arrived after and healed both men enough to keep them from dying and allowed the Muggles to take it from there while I took Sirius home."

"You know that I'll be forced to do something if something 'happens' to either man. Orion I have no wish to arrest you." Charlus says, he seems to have aged behind his glasses.

A dark little laugh escapes Lord Black.

"Oh, I won't be laying a hand or wand on either man." There is an unspoken threat in those words _I don't need to_.

They sit for a time, discussing trivial things and some political matters. What votes they should ally on and which ones they should play off of each other to get the best results. Nothing important. It's only as Orion leaves that a thought that has been niggling at the back of his mind escapes from his lips.

"Charlus?"

_Hmm?_ Said wizard looks up from his paperwork.

"Why did the boy even ask for access to my file? And how did he get it?"

* * *

Orion has one more stop before going home.

Hamish Ammurabi is an aged wizard and one of the best solicitors in the wizarding world. He and his family's law firm, H.A. and Progeny, have won thousands of cases throughout their history of 230 years. They run their family business out of their family seat, The Lybab Fort, an older fortified manse that housed much of the extended Ammurabi family. They have been both solicitors for, and allies of, the House of Black for many years.

As head of the family Hamish is the primary lawyer of the Black Family, and as such it is his office that Orion is currently in.

"Let me see if I understand this correctly, Lord Black. You need someone who can go into the muggle world and gather information on a certain individual and their activities?" Hamish's voice grows incredulous over the word Muggle, he does remember when one of the late Black witches tried to restart muggle hunting for sport.

"That is correct." Orion's words broker no argument.

"This is not normally the type of work you need from us. Is there anything I need to know before we get started?"

Orion does not answer, only passes over his suitcase filled with folders and paperwork. Inside is detailed the myriad of crimes and criminal activities of one Davon Crane; murder, rape, extortion, human trafficking, child abuse in every form.

Hamish reads through the entirety of it, growing paler with each crime listed.

"We have a wizard, half-muggle you see, who does this type of work for us. He goes around gathering information and evidence that either Aurors or muggle law enforcement wouldn't know where, or how, to look for. I'm not sure how the muggle laws work to be honest. I know the basics are the same as they are here, but learning how we can use them isn't something we've ever had to do."

"In all truth most people can't even give us names or locations, the amount of information you've given us is enough to dig up the man's entire life within a week."

Orion seems to think it over for a moment. "I want as much information as possible within 3 days, leave any evidence. I'll need it for later."

"As you wish, from the acts listed I can only hope that you show this man your tender mercies. We also offer a cleaning service, for a small fee, of course." Hamish says, a wicked smile.

Orion's smile answers back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hags - magical beings known to eat the flesh of dead people; called bloodlust seers after the belief that they could see the future, but only if it was about something violent (which may or may not be true)
> 
> The Pit- An admitting area filled with the desks of lower level urors used to process petty criminals, it's very open. Upper Aurors have offices.
> 
> The Pen- Interviews and interrogations are held here, rooms range from very comfortable to very inhospitable. Orion was taken to one of the less comfortable ones.
> 
> MMHA- Medi-Magical Health Act, equivalent to HIPPA, ensures that medical and magical information can not be given out without consent of the patient or a warrant.


	8. Witches Brew

_With Walburga, same morning_

It's nearing noon by the time Walburga and Sirius arrive at Cygnus's home, intent on enjoying themselves at the country estate.

Druella and Cygnus live in a lovely chateau on the coast, a gorgeous structure surrounded on all sides by gleaming windows and pale marble flooring. The wards surrounding the house keep the environment closer to Druella's native France, rather than the cooler and more dreary English countryside. Normally the chateau would have been a wedding gift from the Pater to Walburga upon marrying Orion, but instead it acts as the home of her brother and his family. Under any other circumstances Walburga would have kicked up a fuss about being passed over, But she cannot find it in herself to begrudge Druella her seaside home. Her Sister-in-law has earned it and any respite it can bring.

"Scorcher, go find and save your brother. Your cousins have no doubt taken to using him as a personal doll by this point" Walburga says, giving her son a slight push towards the children's wing where shrieks and laughter can be heard in the distance.

"Yes, Mother" Sirius replies and scampers down the hallway, and a way from no doubt Boring Adult Things.

_ClickClick-ClickClick_

Walburga turns to the sound of her sister-in-law's kitten heels on the tiled floors. Druella is a shorter woman than most Black women are, by blood or marriage, which often makes it somewhat comical to see her beside Cygnus, who has shoulders twice as wide as his wife and stands a head and a half taller than her, even though he is the second shortest Black wizard. Her hair is long and pale blonde, coloring she shares with her daughter Narcissa, and she is wrapped in a simple jade shift dress.

" 'As little Sirius already gone? I 'ad hoped to greet 'im." Druella questions as she draws near, French lilt coloring her words. Normally it would be considered rude to not be there to greet guests or for guests to leave before being greeted.

"I sent him to save Regulus from the nefarious clutches of your daughters" Walburga jokes to her good-sister, Druella and she have had a comraderie since the moment Cygnus had said he wanted to marry the French witch.

"Perhaps later zhen." Druella smiles softly as she reaches Walburga, leaning in and air-kissing each cheek.

"Come, Cygnus 'as been eage' to see you." Druella links their arms and leads Walburga further into the chateau.

"Ickle Siri!" Bella's shrieks carry from somewhere down the hall.

* * *

"Hello Big Sister, Dear Wife," Cygnus greets as the two witches enter the room.

"Little Brother," Walburga replies sardonically while Druella seats herself on the lounge beside her husband, leaning into him almost immediately.

Cygnus and Druella are the closest thing to a 'love-match' to have happened in the House of Black since Dorea and Charlus wed years ago.

"Now Sister, what brings you here today? You were only over for tea just yesterday." Cygnus questions, his arm draping around his petite wife.

"Oh, _Dear Brother_ , how could you forget. _All_ the ladies are coming over for tea today." At this Druella immediately perks up and quietly excuses herself. No doubt off to invite the various witches of their house, heeding Walburga's request for a full audience. Cygnus seems to pout at her absence, which only amuses Walburga further.

"Are they? How silly of me to forget, I suppose it's a good idea to invite the lads over for a drink, you'll be staying for dinner, yes?"

"I suppose so," Walburba replies. It's probably a good idea to coordinate and Orion will want to control the information flow from the start if he can.

"I do need a favour from you and Al though."

"Whatever you need."

"Tell Charlus about my spell. I fear I may need his help with finding wards that will work with or around it later, and I'd rather have a head-start than wait till the last minute."

Cygnus curses under his breath as the unbreakable vow between him and his sister loosens.

"What's going on? I felt the spell go up from here last night. It can't be good."

Of course he had felt Walburg's spell go, he and Alphard had been there when she'd inadvertently created it, had been the reason she had created it to begin with. If there had ever been two people that Walburga would have gone to war for in her youth it was her younger brothers. She still would.

"Sirius was with Orion down on Knockturn when someone upset him enough to set him off. He got lost in the muggle world. Then nearly assaulted. Another man came to his defense and nearly died doing so. Orion is seeing to both. We've lost both his mantle and broach, though we are searching for both. But, you know as well as I that they are powerful objects that could be used against us. And... I have a feeling that things are getting worse, I want to be prepared. In the meantime I mean to do something about the person who insulted our house and intentionally upset my son."

"That is concerning. So is the fact that this person insulted our house, yet you glossed over it. You never forget an insult." Cygnus raises his hand to stave off his sisters argument. "I won't ask what was said because I know it will only enrage me, I trust you to deal with this in your own way. Though do let me know if you need anything. And Al and I will speak to Charlus."

"Now, I can feel the other ladies arriving through the wards. So I'll just go write the lads about coming over for a drink and dinner while you have your tea. Do try not to get in a fight with any of them this time. There is only so much the elves can do to repair." Cygnus says on his way out the door. It closes just in time to shield him from his sister's jinx.

Laughter resounds from behind the now closed door as Walburga deliberately doesn't pout at her brothers comment.

* * *

_Tea Time_

Despite the very late invites all of the current Black witches are in attendance to the afternoon tea. Irma, Walburga's own mother, hasn't been invited, to nobodies disappointment. Irma Black nee Crabbe, is not her daughters ally.

Lucretia, Dorea, Cassiopeia, and Melania have all shown up. It is rare to see any of them let alone all of them. Lucretia married a Prewett and fled her family immediately, returning rarely. Dorea married into the House of Potter and spends most of her time working as an expert Healer at St. Mungos, as well as raising her two sons, Henry and Albert, and 'helping with' her 'nephew' James. Cassiopeia tends to their family's sacred grounds, prepares for rites and rituals, and tutors Andromeda. Lastly, Melania, the technical Matriarch of the family, has been 'set-aside' by her husband Arcturus for years, thanks in part to Orion, and spends most of her time at her Dowry Properties, rarely engaging in the outside world and avoiding her husband like the plague he is.

They have come together to offer their aid to Walburga in her family's time of need.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Walburga says, "It has been an eventful few days."

Once everyone is seated Walburga tells them of the events of the previous day omitting the parts about her spell, Sirius's lost mantle, and the Orion's more extensive plan to take down the extended trafficking ring. If all goes well, they'll learn soon enough.

"I plan to deal with the shop boy and had hoped some of you might like to join in. Since he decided to bring the family into it." Walburga said. "If he likes to upset children so, then perhaps its time to let the children have some fun."

"Henry is too old for it, but I can take my sons- son Albert with me to visit, and _my nephew_ James too, if Euphemia is up to it." Dorea said, a wry smile on her face. "Those boys are always up to mischief and James is going through a 'why' phase."

Nobody says anything about Dorea's slip of the tongue.

The entire house, sans Arcturus and those in his confidence, knew that James Potter had been born too sickly to survive and that Henry and Albert had both been on deaths door from a rampant strain of pox at his birth. Euphemia and Fleamont had worked tirelessly to try and cure their nephews, brewing potions endlessly for months, only for Euphemia to realize she was pregnant with their miracle child when her water broke. James had been nearly three months premature and affected by a blood-curse no one had known Euphemia was a carrier for, and it was too late to treat with modern medicine.

Death was certain.

Then Dorea had called upon Cassiopeia for her aid, the Black family priestess could do nothing for the pox, but had blood magic capable of saving James.

A ritual was performed in the dead of night, binding young James's magic to Dorea and Charlus, using an ancient and dark form of blood magic, long made illegal, but it was enough to save the child. James was the son by blood of Euphemia and Fleamont and by magic of Dorea and Charlus. Henry and Albert's fevers broke the next morning, the potion's having finally been effective, leaving all the children safe and well. Today the Couples and their children lived on magically connected estates, and practically lived in each others pockets.

"Ignatius's niece and nephews are always raising hell, even with Molly just starting Hogwarts, might as well put the brats to use." Lucretia adds.

"Others will join in, if they know the boy has been insulting Sacred Houses." Cassiopeia says, the others murmur in agreement, and the matter is settled.

"Come dear, let us speak," It is Melania who steers Walburga to a more isolated spot to speak. "I have known you since you were a girl, I raised you alongside my own daughter for years, rather than allow that cow Irma destroy you. And I know that they have been trying to wittle you away to nothing for just as long."

"So I need you to heed these words: Be wary. For all that Arcturus is a thousand times a fool, he is a paranoid one. If he feels that you or my son are amassing power or influence, that he does not control, he will do everything to take you out. He has murdered his own blood before, he will not hesitate to do so again."

"I understand, we are keeping as low a profile as possible."

"I know, and the odds are against you. Arcturus has dragged this family's good name through dragon dung." Melania advises, eyes more aged than her years. "Do not forget what that man has done to myself and others."

How can anyone anyone forget that Melania had come home one afternoon to her first husband, Regulus, hanging from the chandelier. Arcturus, recently widowed himself, had swept in to 'take care of her and young Lucretia'. It was only after Arcturus had started to take notice of her daughters budding beauty that Melania had agreed to marry him. Thus began her second tenure as the Lady Black and the worst 20 years of her life.

At her words Druella perks up, face growing grim. She is one of the 'others' Arcturus has harmed.

"I know you 'ope to spare my feelings, but zhis is unnecessary. I came to terms with my torment long ago. If zhere ees anyt'ing I can do to 'elp you; or punish zhat monsterr' zhen I shall do eet," Druella says eyes blazing. " 'e would 'ave seen moi broken and buried een an unmarked grave. 'E whished to ' _make eet last_ '. I know of zhe mausoleum zhat Orion has filled with zhe ot'ers bodies. No more."

"I know what zhat monster wished to do to moi _Bella._ "

The words stop Walburga short, neither she nor Orion had ever dared to voice the heinous threats Arcturus had made to ensure they would bear an Heir. Had never told Druella of what Arcturus had desired to do to the daughter he had sired on her during those few short weeks she had been trapped as his newest mistress. To hear the other woman say the words was sickening in ways Walburga could not put words to.

That Arcturus had threatened to use Bella, a then child of nine, as broodmare for a child that would have been her own half-brothers son or worse _her own brother._ Arcturus had been so determined to get an heir he had been willing to use fertility and lust potions on his own illegitimate daughter, had even been excited by the prospect.

"Wheech reminds moi, my girls, zhey can 'elp wit' your shop boy, no?" Druella's smile is beatifically innocent.

No wonder Cygnus was so gone for the witch.

Kredren, Cygnus's elf, pops in then to request the ladies presence at dinner.

* * *

Orion arrived home from the solicitors only to find Kreacher waiting with his dinner jacket and a note requesting his presence at Cygnus's chateau.

Upon arrival at his Good-brothers home Orion is greeted by the sight of both his brothers-in-law and Charlus again, lounging about, each with a drink of their choice in hand.

"Unfortunately, Prewett is unable to attend, though I'm sure your sister will fill him in on whatever Walburga has gathered us all for." Cygnus says, addressing Orion directly.

"I'm sure you all have an idea of what happened yesterday." At this the others nod, "Normally this would be very simple, however a few discrepancies have appeared."

The others perk up intrigued and wary.

"First, the man who attacked Sirius is wanted for a great deal of muggle crimes, so for the time being I will allow the muggle authorities to deal with him," Orion doesn't mention his investigation into the man or the fact that the Muggles have never been able to catch the man red-handed. He'll deal with that personally.

"Second, Walburga is going after the shop boy down on Knockturn who upset Sirius, so I'd suggest staying well away." Both of Walburga's brothers seem amused by the comment, Charlus only pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off a building headache.

"Third, somehow and for whatever reason a Junior Auror, Anderson Davies, sought and gained access to my MM Records through the Sports Department. I want to know how and why, and if he's working with someone else. The brat was rude, bordering stupid. It may have been an act, or he may have been a pawn."

"Lastly, no one and nothing will be able to enter Grimmauld for the time being, The Spell is active, so we may be needing all of your assistance in getting certain things set into motion."

"Of course, speaking of, Tatting stopped by a while ago, your purchase was sent by elf to your home."

"Is there anything we can do at the moment?" Charlus questions.

"No, not yet. I have some plans in motion, but I don't want to give the game away yet." Orion answers.

"Are you sure? Do you want me to come put in new wards at Grimmauld? This Spell of yours, It will hold?" Charlus asks.

"No to the wards, at least for now. And, Yes, it will hold." Orion replies.

"How? Has it been tested?" Had it been any other person asking, Orion would have dueled them in his wife's honor, but Charlus is a Master of Defensive Magic, capable of amazing wards, barriers, and traps. He only wishes to ascertain that his extended family is safe.

If family rumours of his warding prowess are true, he single handedly ward-trapped a dragon to get back the engagement ring he proposed to Dorea with.

He never will say how it was taken to begin with.

"Under fire," Comes the previously silent Alphard's reply. All attention turns to him, though his attention turns to Orion, "She wants him in the loop".

With a blasé shrug Alphard returns his attention to Charlus. 

"Years ago, back before Cyg or I had even made it to Hogwarts a rival Patriarch became infuriated with our family. I don't know what our parents did to anger him so, and Wally was away at Hogwarts so she couldn't help smooth it over."

Alphard stops and looks over at Cygnus who only nods, encouraging his older brother on.

"We were called to the Patriarch's home one night, for dinner, we were told. After dessert we both lost consciousness and awoke in the woods; unarmed children alone, we were easy prey. The other man had bribed Our Patriarch to get his hands on us, and Arcturus had happily delivered.

Out of the woods came a wave of wizards and witches, around a dozen, each with faces lined with such hate you'd have thought we'd committed one of the Greater Crimes. They made a game of it, chasing us through the woods, hitting us with hexes and curses. Letting us go only to track us down with magic and hounds.

Then, after what seemed like a lifetime, they had us cornered. I stuck Cygnus behind me and prayed to the gods that help would come.

At that very moment a shooting star appeared on the horizon, growing larger by the second. It seemed to shatter as it drew closer, it wasn't until the first spell hit one of our attackers that I realized it was a person, not a star that had come to our rescue.

Walburga had ridden her prize broom across half of England, at such speeds her skin should have stripped off, to come and save us. The light I had first seen was a tracking spell attached to an amulet I had crafted her for her birthday, one that allowed us to communicate at long distances so that she could talk to Cyg or I whenever she wanted to. She was always complaining that many of her roommates were just petty gossips.

When our attackers finally realized she was there they turned their spells on her instead. She was going too fast to maneuver out of the way, instead she put up a strong shield and acted as a battering ram, taking out three more of our assailants to the two she already had down. She was thrown from her broom but had already applied a cushioning charm to ease her fall.

She immediately moved in front of us and did everything she could to keep the others back. But, she was horribly outnumbered and eventually they disarmed her.

I remember her turning to us and ripping off her mantle and wrapping it around our bodies in one swift motion. I remember her pulling us close and low to the ground and furiously whispering in our ears ' _you are mine and they will not have you_ '. I remember the sounds of the spells hitting her back, the wet and crunch as it broke open under the continuous assaults.

Most of all I remember the look of serenity that passed over her face as she stood back up. The others laughing, making jests at her injuries, at the fact that she'd been disarmed. Then she'd turned on them and started laughing, mad and unhinged, coughing up blood from her injuries.

She threw her head back and her arms out, and her magic, which had been coalescing until that point, ripped out of her. Pouring out and wrapping around our attackers. Some tried to fight, or run, or beg, but it fell on deaf ears.

I would say that they died screaming, but that would imply that they died. I'm not sure if you can consider what happened to them dying. It seems too gentle a word. Walburga's magic devoured them. They ceased to exist. No bodies, or wands, or remnants of magical signatures. Nothing.

When we returned our parents acted as if nothing had happened, though we know they knew what had happened. The Patriarch only sneered and stomped off when he saw us. Wally had Kreacher heal her a bit and snuck back into school.

Over the years she's perfected it into a powerful spell. We don't know all of the details, not even she does. But, we do know this, that spell ,whatever it is, is linked to the House's sacred magicks, a blood ritual set _in perpetuity_ inside her blood and magic. If it's in place, they're safe."

"She wanted you to know, Charlus, because she needs help crafting wards that can work with it." Cygnus says "We will also need you to stay and take an unbreakable vow before you leave tonight."

"I thank your House for the trust it has placed in me, I willingly accept your terms." Charlus intoned, "I will need to speak with Walburga, and perhaps Cassiopeia, at length to find what you need."

The two brothers only nod in acquiescence.

"I need something from you as well, Charlus" Orion says as he pulls the other wizard aside, Cygnus and Alphard continue their conversation off to the side.

"If it is within my power, I will do it," Charlus replies solemnly.

"I need a list of people involved with the cases, both muggle and magical. Sirius's mantle was lost at the scene and we are trying to track it down." Charlus's face is unreadable granite, he only nods. There is no war of duties for him, no deciding between his Aurors and mostly-innocent muggles, and his wife's family, when there normally would be one.

"I would also like information on William Granger if possible, the muggle that assisted Sirius. I do not like having such a large imbalance in my family's debt to his." Orion hedges, unsure how far he can push the other man for information.

"I'll see what I can do," Charlus says, then snorts and rolls his eyes, Orion raises a brow in question.

"The Great Lord of the House of Black has to repay a life debt to a muggle." The humour of the situation sends Charlus into a laughing fit. Orion swipes at the other man who takes the smack good naturedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greater Crimes*- each house has their own moral compass, but the Greater Crimes are a select few acts that are seen as criminal by all. Theft of Magic, Murder of a magical child, Dishonoring Magic, Attacks on Seers, are among them.
> 
> Regular Rape, Murder, Assault are not, though most houses still consider them despicable Crimes.
> 
> Question time:
> 
> Do we keep Henry and Albert Potter?
> 
> Dorea and Charlus are not biologically James's parents, Euphemia and Fleamont are. However they do/did have two sons: Henry, an up-and-coming Auror, and Albert (Al for short); a quidditch enthusiast a few years older than James.
> 
> They are currently alive, but may just meet tragic ends later so James can become the Potter Heir.
> 
> If any of you want to have them make it into the story (alive) let me know, they wouldn't show up for a while, but I don't want to add in characters that would just draw the narrative away if they aren't really something you guys want to see.


	9. William Wakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally forgot that I hadn't posted this...

William Granger does not wake the day he is taken to the hospital, nor the next day, nor the day after that. The nurses and Doctors all say he’s fine, that the mixture of trauma and stress on his body have left him in need of rest more than anything. They all assure that he will wake up soon. The bandages wrapped around his body and the dark bruising of his blackened eye and reset nose do little to soothe his wife and daughter.

Hermione Granger spends four days at her father’s bedside in the hospital, her mother Helen is there as often as she can be. Leaving only for work or to grab basic necessities from their apartment. Each day she returns looking more and more worn. Each night she falls asleep on the little worn couch in the waiting room, no matter how uncomfortable the old springs are on her aching back.

On the fourth day, everything changes. 

Hermione, busy reading one of the books the hospital had had on hand, doesn’t notice the other visitors and nurses rushing through the halls . Nor the sound of a lone person approaching from down the long sterile hospital hallway.

The form of a vaguely-familiar man in a stuffy suit comes to a stop in the hospital doorway and surveys the room, startling slightly at the sight of the room not empty as it should be thanks to the anti-muggle spell currently in place. The same spell that had already sent the nearby medical workers and other visiting family members scattered in other directions.

“Hello, young lady,” Orion greets the young bushy-haired girl he had met earlier that week, under rather unpleasant circumstances.

Hermione looks up, startled.

“You’re that boy Sirius’s dad?” The girl says, though it sounds more like a question with her little head turning sideways and her nose scrunching up, giving Orion the impression of a curious kitten.

“Yes, I am. How are you feeling?” Orion asks. He hadn’t expected to be seen today but there is no way to sneak the files he has in his hand into the small hospital room, with her there, without it being overly suspicious. Especially if Charlus is keeping an eye on the goings-on of this particular case. The man may be an ally of his house but he took his job seriously and would know if the area was flagged for magic use. The muggle repelling spell would dissipate without a trace due to its nature of being an ‘atmospheric’ spell, but adjusting anything or anyone directly would be easily discovered.

The girl shrugs, “Ok”.

“I’m glad to hear. You’re father?”

That seems to be the wrong question as tears well in the young girl's eyes and she starts to sniffle.

“The doctor’s say he’ll wake soon, b-but th-they don’t kn-know when.”

Realizing that a tantrum is on the horizon Orion hurries to calm the young girl down.

“No need to cry, I’m sure he’ll be awake before you know it.” He enters the room and offers Hermione his handkerchief, thankful for the training having three nieces and two sons has given him. He is not a comforting man, but he does know how to make his presence soothing enough to calm an upset child from time to time.

“Oh, Hello.” Came a voice from the doorway Orion had only recently vacated. “ I’m sorry, but who are you?” 

There is strain in the voice of the woman that has just entered the room. A woman who, to Orion, looks ready to keel over from sheer exhaustion. A woman who has also gotten through his spell, curiously. 

Perhaps her bloodline contains some squib blood, it would explain her and her daughter’s ability to throw off an admittedly weak compulsion. Or perhaps they are merely determined to see to their husband and father respectively.

Before Orion can answer a small voice pipes up.

“He’s the one who helped Daddy.” Hermione says, voice sure.

“What?” Helen asks bewildered at her daughter’s comment.

Orion freezes wondering if the young girl is actually going to tell her mother about what _exactly_ Orion had done that day.

“He called for help and helped deal with the bad man.”

Helen stiffens at the mention of Krane, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Orion, and maneuvers herself into the room between Hermione and Orion, who is keeping a respectable distance between himself and the young girl.

“Is that true?” She asks, curious but cautious around the man she doesn’t know, whom she has just found alone with her daughter, in her heavily injured husband’s hospital room. 

“I did what I could to assist. Your husband is likely the only reason my son came out of the situation unharmed. My family and I are eternally grateful. I apologize for not sticking around, I only left once I saw the emergency personnel arrive. My son doesn’t deal well with sirens and flashing lights.”

The last part is only a partial lie. Over-stimulation does set Sirius off, the same way it does any Black. The Black Madness was inherent in all those born with enough Black Magic, though blessedly only Bella has been touched by the more potent Black Fire in this generation. 

“I understand. I’m grateful you helped at all. Luckily the damage wasn’t terribly extensive.”

 _Of course it wasn’t,_ Orion thought, _I’d already healed most of it._

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Orion started. “I only wished to make sure everyone was alright. Now that that’s done, I should be on my way.”

“Oh, yes. Of course, thank you for your time. Please, allow me to see you out.”

“That isn’t necessary.”

“I insist, plus I need to find the nurse, she should have done a check already.”

“Then by all means, I would enjoy the company, and directions. This place is a maze.”

Helen's smile is as fake as they come, Orion suspects that’s the point.

She turns quickly and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. Years of sleight of hand are all that allows Orion to slip the folder he’s brought into a pile of William’s clothes folded neatly on a nearby side table.

There is no evidence of the folder as Helen turns around again.

“Please, lead the way.”

* * *

William Granger wakes in fits and starts to the bright white of a hospital room, He falls in and out of consciousness for the first few days. A mix of trauma, exhaustion, and the pain meds he's being fed.

Finally coming to his senses his first instinct is to block out the insufferable light burning through his eyelids. A mistake he soon realizes, as the arm he tries to lift instead shoots with pain.

The groan of pain he emits notifies his daughter to his new state of consciousness.

“Daddy!” His daughter throws herself at his bed, but doesn’t climb in, too scared to jostle her father’s wounds.

“Hey Pumpkin, are you okay?”

“I’m okay Daddy. Sirius’s daddy showed up and helped. And the policemen took away the bad man when he woke up two days ago.”

“Two days ago? How long have i been asleep?”

Hermione furrows her brow and starts to count on her fingers.

“... 1,2,3,4. Today is day number four since you got here Daddy.”

Four days out cold and who knew how many more before he recovered. Shit, he might not be able to keep his jobs, it might not be entirely legal to fire someone who’s been injured, but they didn’t have the money to press a suit if it did happen.

_Beepbeepbeepbeep_

The heart rate machine beside him alerts him to his own growing anxiety.

Okay, deep breaths, think this through.

He is alive, Hermione is okay. He can get disability if it comes down to it, at least for a while. His landlord isn’t a complete asshole and will let them be late on rent if it's an emergency. It’ll be fine, he just needs to talk to Helen.

“Don’t worry Daddy! I’m gonna get super strong, so next time I can protect you, too” Comes his daughter’s voice in earnest.

He smiles down at her, her face full of determination. She’s even set aside the book she was ready, bookmarked of course -so she doesn’t lose her spot.

“Not just yet Pumpkin. It’s still Daddy’s job to protect you, Daddy would be very sad if you took his job away from him.”

This earns him a ‘Harrumph’ and a fierce glare, as fierce as a child barely out of toddlerhood can be. His daughter seems to think for a moment, looking for a rebuke.

“Fine, I won’t take Daddy’s job… yet. But, someday I’ll be big and strong, then Daddy can,” Hermione seems to search for the right word, “Retire! Daddy can retire, Mrs. Donaldson says that's a rich, old person vacation. You can do that Daddy!”

William highly doubts he will ever be able to retire, at least not before he’s 70, but his daughter’s words and her sleepy yawn as she crawl into his hospital bed bring a smile to his face either way.

The walk down to the lobby is strained at best. 

It’s clear to Orion that the woman beside him has no desire to be in his presence, not that he blames her, if a strange person appeared in Walburga’s hospital room and accosted Sirius he would react rather poorly to the intrusion as well.

“I apologize, I’ve just realized, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Orion Black, Sirius’s father.”

“Helen Granger,” Helen replies stiffly.

“Ah, the Queen and Princess of Troy,” Orion remarks.

“Yes, not that we’re Greek. My family is from Glasgow,” Helen smiles wistfully, Orion wonders how much she misses them, “ It’s Shakespearean as well, for William.”

“What about your son, Sirius is the Dog Star right?” Helen glances back at her companion. Orion only looks on, bemused. 

“Yes, though most people outside of our acquaintance don’t realize that. It’s a family name. Almost every member of our family is named for the Heavens in some way.”

“Mr. Black?"

“Yes?”

“You and I both know you didn’t come here just to check on my husband and daughter.”

Orion sighs, Helen is a great deal more straight forward than he usually deals with. 

Neither his nor Charlus’s investigations have turned up Sirius’s mantle and broach, and his surreptitious look around William’s hospital room had shown nothing.

As well the goblins had notified him that the broach is no longer showing the fluke of the 100% Black Magic, but has not been away long enough to be established as lost at the GALO. Speaking of, Gritgnaw had informed him that the creator-heir of the broach desired for the broach to remain with the ‘True’ Black Magic, rather than be returned to the vault! 

Orion is honor-bound to see such a thing through, but now he is at a loss. He has no clue where either item is and even less of an idea of where the so-called ‘True Black Magic’ is coming from. Only creature magic and blood magic can determine such things. Neither of which he has access to in this situation.

“You’re right, I have some personal matters involved in coming here as well. But do not mistake me, I meant it when I said that my family is eternally grateful for your husband’s actions. Sirius is a bit of a miracle child. My wife and I had been married for over a decade when he was born.”

At this Helen stops short, “Wait, How old are you?”

“I turn 40 this year.” Orion says amused at the woman’s flabbergasted look.

“40? How?” 

“Good genetics and I used to be involved in sports.” Helen shakes her head, willing her confusion at the situation to go away, and starts again toward the entrance to the building, Orion following. The man beside her looks 30 at most.

“But, back to your question. My son has lost a coat and a broach. They are of great sentimental value, my wife and mother made the coat by hand, and the broach is an heirloom, mostly cut glass and fool’s gold, but my son loves it dearly.”

“The officers took both items for their investigation, that’s the last I’ve seen of either.” They turn a corner and the Entrance comes into view.

“Thank you, again, for your time Mrs. Granger. Have a good day.” Orion's reply is almost despondent. Orion knew from Charlus’s investigation that all material evidence had been destroyed for ‘safety measures’ as Krane's blood was ‘too toxic to handle’ and had gotten on to nearly every item at the crime scene. Likely a cover up, and if so the mantle was lost and the broach likely pawned. He would have to wait for the GALO’s decision before he continued.

Helen turns and heads towards the nurses station intent on discovering why the nurse on duty hasn’t made her rounds.

* * *

“Mrs. Granger!” 

Helen stops on her way to the nurses station and turns to find an officer in uniform walking briskly towards her, a bundle of cloth thrown over his arm.

“Glad I could catch you, could I have a quick word?” The officer's demeanor is stiff and tense.

“Of course, how can I help you Officer --?” Helen looks at the man quizzically, she has only met him in passing.

“It’s Brantley, and there’s been some news involving your husband’s case. We believe Krane’s associates may try to intimidate you or your family into silence so that your husband won’t testify against him.”

Helen, who has been running on fumes for days, can’t find it in herself to be shocked at the revelation. Krane and his posse are notorious in their area, unfortunately the police have never been able to prove anything, Krane has ways of keeping people quiet.

“What do you suggest we do? Are we in any danger?”

“Stay in the hospital as much as you can, we’ll have an officer posted at the door ‘round to clock. Once your husband is ready to leave we’ll keep a patrol of your neighborhood. But your best bet is to move somewhere else. Krane won’t try and off you immediately, it would be too suspicious, but every other witness has recanted their testimony. Those that didn’t flee disappeared a few months later.”

Helen laughs a small, derisive laugh.

“That’s not an option, we’re barely getting by. I can barely afford the bus fare to my jobs. There’s no way we could down pay on a new place and all the subsidized housing is in our area anyway.”

The officer sighs, looking exhausted.

“There are some funds that the force and the city have set aside for these types of things, the problem is, they need proof that your family is in danger.”

“Which you don’t have cause Krane and his buddies have never been caught.”

The officer only nods, eyes tight and mouth drawn down.

“To be honest Ma’am, It wouldn’t surprise me if the man has friends in high places. Or someone covering up for him on the inside. I’ve never seen an operation as slippery as this one.”

The silence that stretches between them after Officer Brantley’s words is telling, they both know the Granger’s are unlikely to be considered for the aide.

“Was that all officer? I need to be getting back to my husband and daughter.”

“Almost,” Brantley begins, “We’ve also finished taking a look at the jacket and trinket you handed over the other day. They’ve been given the all clear, and since we haven’t been able to track down the boy your daughter mentioned the items ownership falls to you, or rather your daughter as the jacket is rather small.”

“That was rather fast.” Helen says as the officer hands her the items to her, confusion creasing his brow.

“Yes, well the evidence room tech said they were too distracting and wanted them gone as soon as possible.” Helen understands, the coat and costume broach seem to itch at her brain, like something is just slightly off, but she’s unsure what.

“I’m also on first watch, if you’d like to return to your husband’s room. I’m sorry for keeping you away for so long.”

“No, thank you officer. I still need to find the nurse on duty. And don't worry about it, I’d much rather have this conversation out here and away from my daughter.”

“Very well, I’ll see you in a little while then Mrs. Granger.” The officer replies then heads down the hall towards the elevators.

It’s only as the officer leaves her sight that Helen remembers that the items in her hands belong to the son of the man she has just escorted outside. In fact she’d forgotten about the man at all.

Hurrying, Helen makes it back out to the front of the Hospital in record time. Not spotting the man in the front lobby, she turns to the welcome desk.

“The man that I came down with just a few minutes ago, do you know where he went?”

The receptionist looks up confused.

“What man?” 

Helen huffs in frustration.

“Dark hair, Wide shoulders, and this tall,” Helen gestures, her hand raised a little over a head taller than herself, “He was in a suit and used a cane.”

“Oh. Ummm yes.” The receptionist seems to concentrate, “He’s left, didn’t even order a taxi, just walked out the front door.”

“Mr. Black!!” Helen calls as she runs out the front door, looking up and down the streets, but the only thing that greets her is the sound of a car backfiring in the distance.

* * *

“You’re awake.” A hoarse voice comes from the door. William looks up from his sleeping daughter in his arms to find Helen standing in the doorway, a jacket draped over her arm.

“I’m awake,” William replies, still a little dazed from the pain and drugs in his system. In a few strides Helen is beside him. She leans down to him, her forehead resting against his.

“If you ever do something that stupid again, I won’t forgive you.” She says and William can hear the thickness in her voice. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” William said.

“You’d better be.”

“Will, what are gonna do?” Helen asked, still leaned down.

“I don’t know, we’re already in debt. The hospital bills aren’t going to be easy even if they are subsidized due to our situation. The disability won’t cover everything and I don’t think we’ll be safe back home”

“The officer said the same, he said they’d put a patrol in but you and I both know Krane has a stranglehold on the entire area. People are too afraid of him. Even with an officer sitting outside the apartment there’s no guarantee we’ll be safe.”

“Worst case… I’ll talk to my brother. My parents might have disowned me, but David wouldn’t let anything happen to Hermione. He- he can take her in while we get back on our feet.”

Helen’s tears come freely then. David is Hermione’s godfather, too scared to stand up to their parents but too kind-hearted to outright reject his brother, and their next of kin should anything happen to them.

* * *

Two days later William is finally given the okay to be released, he has to come back for a check-up in two weeks time, but is otherwise free to go.

“Helen, will you pass me my clothes?” William calls from the hospital bathroom.

“Yeah, here.” Comes his wife’s muffled reply from the door as she pass him the clothes that have been waiting on his nightstand for almost a week.

 _Oh, what a joy to have underpants again,_ William thinks.

It’s only as he puts on his shirt that William notices the thick manilla folder nestled in the folds of his trousers.

Pulling it loose William turns it over in his hands unsure of what it could be.

 **_We’re Even_ **

The words are embossed in gold across the front in hand so fancy it could have been calligraphy.

Curiosity getting the best of him, and dread welling up in his gut at the rather ominous declaration, William steels himself and opens the folder.

“...”

“Honey?”

“Yes?” comes Helen’s reply again.

“Can you go get the officer on guard?”

“What?”

“Go get Brantley.”

William slips on his trousers hurriedly as his wife steps away and the sounds of a muffled conversation reach his ears.

A quick knock on the door announces Brantley’s arrival.

“Mr. Granger, do you need assistance?” Brantley asks before clearing his throat uncomfortably.

In less than a second William has the door open and is dragging the officer in. He catches his wife’s eyes and motions towards the hospital room door and mouths the words ‘lock it’. Flipping around he returns his attention to Brantley and locks the bathroom door behind himself. Brantley for his part has stepped away, one hand on his baton the other out in front of him to keep William at a distance.

“Look” is all William says as he gestures toward the newly acquired folder.

Hesitantly Brantley grabs the folder and opens it. 

Inside are photos, logs, receipts, _Names_ ; evidence in every form and even a slip of paper with a post office box number on it, claiming to have even more audio and video evidence, just inside London proper. Everything the police need to take out Davon Krane and at least two dozen others.

“My God, How do you have this?”

“I don’t know, I just found this amongst my clothes. I’ve never seen any of this before in my life.”

“Do you know what this means?”

“That you can not only prosecute Davon Krane but have the evidence to take out an entire Human Trafficking ring? Look, one of the Logs says they’re having a big ‘get together’ tomorrow night, I bet if you can bug the place and get there first you can get some of the big players. And there won’t be anything they can do.”

Brantley lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Fuck, you some sort of cop.”

“Lawyer actually” William replies, a wicked gleam in his eye

“Even better, I need to go call the Chief,” Brantley replies, “Lock the door behind me, we’ll do this quiet so no one realizes what’s going on. The code word is _Wistman’s Woods_.”

“You’re from Devon?” William asks, voice tinted with humor.

“My mum is. I’ll stand guard again after I make the call and make sure no one comes knocking till the Chief gets here.”

“Got it, good luck.”

With that, William lets the other man out of the bathroom. Officer Brantley makes a b-line for the door, though he doesn’t leave until he hears the lock click again.

“William what’s going on?” Helen asks from beside their daughter, who is also giving William her full attention.

“There’s been a break in the case, we’ll have to stay here for a few more minutes before we can leave.”

Helen nods towards the bathroom, questioning him with her eyes. He only shakes his head no. His wife looks like she wants to ask more but understands the information she wants isn’t appropriate for Hermione to hear. Hermione for her part shrugs her shoulders and goes back to her book, uninterested in the unspoken conversation going on between her parents

A half hour goes by before there’s a knock on the door.

“Got a visitor,” comes through the door.

William approaches the door and waits, only when he hears ‘Wistman’s Woods’ whispered through the door does he unlock it.

In steps a man with Salt-and-pepper hair and piercing eyes, he is a few inches shorter than William but has the same type of air his own father had had. Barely restraining anger and irritation. He is dressed in an officer’s dress uniform but has on an overcoat, hiding the fact.

“What is this all about? Brantley wouldn’t say on the phone, just that I needed to get down here quickly and quietly.”

“Best to see for yourself,” William replies, “It’s in the bathroom.”

The Chief doesn’t look amused by William’s words, but enters the other room anyway, closing the door behind him. For a time there is only the sound of papers being shuffled and reshuffled, with more and more urgency.

**_BANG_ **

The bathroom door slams open, the chief standing there hair mussed and a mad grin on his face. He looks like a cat who's gotten the cream _and_ the canary.

“Where. Did. This. Come. From?” 

“No clue, found it in my clothes.”

"What about you two?” The Chief turns his attention to Helen and Officer Brantley.

“I don’t know, I haven’t seen it before. But I’ve had to come and go several times since this all started.” Helen replies.

“I’m not sure either, Sir. I never saw anyone enter with it, but we only put up a detail a few days ago.” Brantley answers.

“Has _anyone_ been here consistently?”

“Only Hermione,” Helen says.

At her name Hermione peaks out from behind her book, which she had _not_ been hiding behind since the door had been slammed open.

“Young Lady, do you know where this came from?” The chief asks and holds up the manilla folder.

Hermione scrunches her nose in concentration.

“Umm, I think the man who helped Daddy had it when he came by? Did he accidentally leave it? I hope he comes back for it, he forgot Sirius’s coat and jeweler,too.”

The chief looks askance toward Helen and William.

“I’ve never actually seen the man. I've been unconscious every time he’s shown up,” the latter replies.

“He said his name was Orion Black, and now that I think about it he did mention he came here to do more than check up on Hermione and William.” Helen adds

“That’s going to be a problem,” Brantley interjects. “I tried looking into him when Helen mentioned him after William woke up. There’s nothing on him, or a Sirius Black. No birth certificates, no marriage certificates, no deeds, nothing. The best the archives could find was a family that used the same names from a couple hundred years ago that owned a lot of land in London, but that was the Elizabethan Era.”

“The man’s a ghost,” Brantley finishes.

“That’s a powerful ghost, to be able to get this much evidence and in less than a week? He has to have friends in high places, or access to a lot of resources,” The Chief starts, “But that can wait for a moment. We’ve got a lot of work on our hands.”

“You should talk with Mr. Granger, he had some ideas about getting the ball rolling, they’re pretty good.” Brantley pipes in again.

“Might as well, we need to call a couple of cruisers anyway. With this much information, and with some of the names in this folder, we’ll need to put you all in protective custody. There are a couple of safe houses you can stay in outside of London that should work.”

"What about our home? Our jobs? We can’t just disappear, we don’t have the means for that.”

“If it gets to it we’ll relocate you, but for the most part we have social workers that will help reintegrate you when you return.” The Chief snorts. “Plus, if this goes through you’ll have quite a bit of means. Several of the crimes this implicates Krane and his associates for have cash rewards tied to them.”

Helen and William both look taken aback at the information.

“Brantley, go and call the precinct, have them send around a few cruisers, make sure they send a few of the non-descript ones as well, I don’t want this to be an entire circus.”

“Yes, Sir.” With that the other officer is off and the door is locked again.

“Now Mr. Granger, how about you and I have a conversation in the other room. Here those ideas of yours.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later both men step out of the restroom, an air of accomplishment between them. 

“Granger, the second this shit show is over come see me. I could use a mind like yours on the force.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, Henry and Albert will be staying on as side characters. Also if you want to talk to me directly or see little bits and pieces from the story you can find me on my tumblr side blog (KhlorisDancer, has a moon thumbnail/icon), I’ll probably answer questions faster on there. 
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/khlorisdancer


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